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 El Salvador and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Toronto and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the snare 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 Dawn Penn to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro 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 guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Sex Pistols,
The Electric Prunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Kurtis Blow,
The Moody Blues,
Darondo,
Patti Smith,
Loose Ends,
Traffic Nightmare,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Skaos,
Fear,
Second Layer,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eden Ahbez,
Gabor Szabo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pharoah Sanders,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed,
LL Cool J,
Basic Channel,
Eric Copeland,
New York Dolls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Circle Jerks,
Section 25,
Barbara Tucker,
Sam Rivers,
Tubeway Army,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Monks,
The American Breed,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crash Course in Science,
Slave,
The Cowsills,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sonny Sharrock,
Agitation Free,
Vladislav Delay,
the Bar-Kays,
June of 44,
Bill Near,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Albert Ayler,
Bluetip,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terry Callier,
Roger Hodgson,
KRS-One,
Silicon Teens,
Supertramp,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sonics,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.