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 Lithuania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Niagra to the electroclash 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Selecter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Delta 5,
The Gladiators,
Mission of Burma,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Moleskins,
the Bar-Kays,
Fatback Band,
Blossom Toes,
the Normal,
Scientists,
Easy Going,
Tomorrow,
The Fugs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q and Not U,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alton Ellis,
the Slits,
Public Image Ltd.,
Public Enemy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Minnie Riperton,
Visage,
Lungfish,
OOIOO,
Severed Heads,
Arthur Verocai,
Ice-T,
Dark Day,
Patti Smith,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bang On A Can,
Suicide,
Newcleus,
Bauhaus,
The Gories,
Roxy Music,
Khruangbin,
Anakelly,
Aswad,
Talk Talk,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Whodini,
Radio Birdman,
D'Angelo,
The Fire Engines,
The Durutti Column,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gong,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dead Boys,
Nirvana,
The Residents,
Soft Cell,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.