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 Estonia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and a spring reverb 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 arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Archie Shepp,
Crash Course in Science,
In Retrospect,
June Days,
Sunsets and Hearts,
10cc,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pulsallama,
Robert Wyatt,
Sparks,
Suburban Knight,
Public Enemy,
Simply Red,
Aaron Thompson,
Babytalk,
the Bar-Kays,
Al Stewart,
X-101,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Sherman,
Depeche Mode,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Dead Boys,
Silicon Teens,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
World's Most,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Reed,
Cecil Taylor,
Mo-Dettes,
Sex Pistols,
Television Personalities,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Buckinghams,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Görl,
Gichy Dan,
China Crisis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aural Exciters,
Drexciya,
H. Thieme,
Fat Boys,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
Mars,
Swell Maps,
The Kinks,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
Reuben Wilson,
The Neon Judgement,
Prince Buster,
Bad Manners,
Godley & Creme,
The Happenings,
Audionom,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.