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 San Marino and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Doobie Brothers 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer 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 sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
The Moody Blues,
Crooked Eye,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Walker Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dave Gahan,
The Trojans,
The Angels of Light,
Pussy Galore,
Bluetip,
The Toasters,
Marine Girls,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Theoretical Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roger Hodgson,
Ituana,
Robert Görl,
Suicide,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Birthday Party,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
DJ Sneak,
Dennis Brown,
Cecil Taylor,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Jacob Miller,
Dark Day,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Stooges,
Lalann,
Youth Brigade,
James White and The Blacks,
Blossom Toes,
Camouflage,
Accadde A,
Bobby Sherman,
Index,
Derrick May,
The Residents,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sound,
Make Up,
Big Daddy Kane,
Au Pairs,
The Fugs,
The Selecter,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.