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 Iraq and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Infiniti to the rock 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron 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 a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Popol Vuh,
Ponytail,
Wire,
Ronan,
Main Source,
a-ha,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
cv313,
T.S.O.L.,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Real Kids,
Nation of Ulysses,
Monolake,
Jesper Dahlback,
Minutemen,
Amon Düül,
The Dead C,
Aswad,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
Nils Olav,
Mantronix,
The Cramps,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Isaac Hayes,
Zero Boys,
Rapeman,
Dawn Penn,
Albert Ayler,
The Modern Lovers,
Minny Pops,
Agent Orange,
The Neon Judgement,
Davy DMX,
Derrick Morgan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hardrive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fort Wilson Riot,
X-101,
Brand Nubian,
The Fortunes,
The Techniques,
X-Ray Spex,
Ice-T,
Ronnie Foster,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Model 500,
Neil Young,
Lou Christie,
Pantytec,
Shoche,
Ultravox,
Newcleus,
Lalann,
Bill Near,
Stereo Dub,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.