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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Panda Bear to the electroclash 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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare 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 arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Cal Tjader,
Sun Ra,
Ultra Naté,
the Soft Cell,
Ossler,
Lindisfarne,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rakim,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
Mad Mike,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dead C,
Marcia Griffiths,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Knickerbockers,
Donny Hathaway,
Pylon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roxette,
Glenn Branca,
The Vogues,
Mars,
The Associates,
Black Moon,
Whodini,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Derrick Morgan,
Quadrant,
Jandek,
Deepchord,
Harry Pussy,
David Axelrod,
Kas Product,
The Star Department,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rekid,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Rod Modell,
Reagan Youth,
Wasted Youth,
Babytalk,
Inner City,
Lower 48,
Jeru the Damaja,
UT,
Aloha Tigers,
Half Japanese,
Blake Baxter,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Toasters,
Visage,
Sugar Minott,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fear,
Index,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.