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 Paraguay and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roxy Music,
A Certain Ratio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Suicide,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pantaleimon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pantytec,
Chris & Cosey,
Harmonia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Duran Duran,
Henry Cow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Japan,
Quadrant,
Marcia Griffiths,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
Ultravox,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Camouflage,
Grandmaster Flash,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Groovy Waters,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
Con Funk Shun,
Essential Logic,
Soft Cell,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Crime,
The Index,
Dual Sessions,
Black Moon,
Tommy Roe,
Cluster,
Gang of Four,
Quando Quango,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Derrick May,
LL Cool J,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fall,
Barclay James Harvest,
Easy Going,
E-Dancer,
Scientists,
June of 44,
Cal Tjader,
Basic Channel,
The Mojo Men,
Pharoah Sanders,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.