Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Macedonia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Bang on a Can All-Stars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
One Last Wish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cluster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric Copeland,
Blossom Toes,
Grey Daturas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Massinfluence,
Buzzcocks,
June of 44,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slits,
Peter & Gordon,
Fugazi,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Modern Lovers,
Judy Mowatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Blancmange,
Jawbox,
Sex Pistols,
The Skatalites,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Average White Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Howard Jones,
Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Basic Channel,
Janne Schatter,
The Dirtbombs,
The Music Machine,
UT,
Quantec,
Ice-T,
Cecil Taylor,
Hoover,
The Golliwogs,
Pussy Galore,
Icehouse,
Vainqueur,
Juan Atkins,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Khruangbin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cybotron,
The Dead C,
Negative Approach,
Moby Grape,
Television,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.