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 Saudi Arabia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Newcleus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a rhodes 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 güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
The Slackers,
Bill Near,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultravox,
Bauhaus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Vladislav Delay,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
Pere Ubu,
Roxy Music,
Lungfish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Niagra,
The Standells,
The Flesh Eaters,
Little Man,
The Raincoats,
Crash Course in Science,
Unrelated Segments,
Pussy Galore,
the Normal,
E-Dancer,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scion,
Gichy Dan,
Connie Case,
Byron Stingily,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
The Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen,
Letta Mbulu,
Bootsy Collins,
Hoover,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Johnny Clarke,
Sandy B,
The Associates,
Whodini,
Royal Trux,
Harry Pussy,
Roxette,
Lucky Dragons,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bronski Beat,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Count Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pierre Henry,
Joyce Sims,
Man Parrish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Moby Grape,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.