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 Mongolia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Maleditus Sound to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator 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 rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
John Coltrane,
Flipper,
PIL,
Procol Harum,
Al Stewart,
48th St. Collective,
Donald Byrd,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sonny Sharrock,
Ronan,
Yaz,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Durutti Column,
The Martian,
Flash Fearless,
Technova,
The Stooges,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eddi Front,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
Delta 5,
Tears for Fears,
One Last Wish,
Freddie Wadling,
Archie Shepp,
Quantec,
Mad Mike,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jacques Brel,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Vogues,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swell Maps,
New Order,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Normal,
Reuben Wilson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Patti Smith,
Agent Orange,
New Age Steppers,
Kerri Chandler,
Drexciya,
Severed Heads,
The Move,
The Seeds,
John Holt,
Gang of Four,
Pere Ubu,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soft Cell,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.