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 Turkmenistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Pierre Henry to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
F. McDonald,
Blossom Toes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Chris Corsano,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
Steve Hackett,
The Evens,
ABC,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
MDC,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Velvet Underground,
Rapeman,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Skaos,
Crooked Eye,
Unrelated Segments,
Warren Ellis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marmalade,
Black Sheep,
The Birthday Party,
Pussy Galore,
Magma,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Bananas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Throbbing Gristle,
UT,
Quantec,
Danielle Patucci,
Kool Moe Dee,
Malaria!,
Yazoo,
The Leaves,
Skriet,
Don Cherry,
Andrew Hill,
Sugar Minott,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lungfish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scratch Acid,
The Shadows of Knight,
John Cale,
Tommy Roe,
Angry Samoans,
The Knickerbockers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Brand Nubian,
Radiohead,
Ronan,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ornette Coleman,
Joe Smooth,
The United States of America,
Average White Band,
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.