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 Gabon and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Donald Byrd to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Fraelich record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Symarip,
The Star Department,
The Blues Magoos,
Los Fastidios,
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
Derrick Morgan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Golliwogs,
Dark Day,
U.S. Maple,
Accadde A,
Neil Young,
Kayak,
Cameo,
Bob Dylan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Q65,
The Black Dice,
Franke,
Patti Smith,
Au Pairs,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sandy B,
Sarah Menescal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul II Soul,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roger Hodgson,
The Remains,
Minnie Riperton,
Black Bananas,
John Lydon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Moby Grape,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Hashim,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
Simply Red,
Leonard Cohen,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ultra Naté,
Pussy Galore,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boz Scaggs,
The Human League,
Juan Atkins,
Jeff Mills,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.