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 Cuba and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar 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 marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Fela Kuti,
Shuggie Otis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Raincoats,
The Saints,
Dead Boys,
Barry Ungar,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quantec,
Moss Icon,
Organ,
Angry Samoans,
Delta 5,
Stetsasonic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David Bowie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Newcleus,
The Modern Lovers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cluster,
Morten Harket,
Brass Construction,
World's Most,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
UT,
the Sonics,
Patti Smith,
Country Teasers,
Bob Dylan,
Drexciya,
Jacob Miller,
Minnie Riperton,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
Erykah Badu,
Qualms,
Ronnie Foster,
Main Source,
Rapeman,
Oneida,
Sam Rivers,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scrapy,
The Beau Brummels,
Blossom Toes,
The Neon Judgement,
Echospace,
Zapp,
Negative Approach,
Joy Division,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.