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 Comoros and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Wolf Eyes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb 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 linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Junior Murvin,
Mars,
Juan Atkins,
Boredoms,
Hasil Adkins,
Rapeman,
ABC,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Victims,
Newcleus,
the Association,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Camberwell Now,
Slick Rick,
Intrusion,
AZ,
Magazine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Moby Grape,
The Skatalites,
Youth Brigade,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Associates,
Nik Kershaw,
Can,
Bobby Byrd,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
Loose Ends,
This Heat,
Blancmange,
The Music Machine,
Second Layer,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Parrish,
The American Breed,
Unwound,
Skarface,
The Invisible,
Bang On A Can,
Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Todd Rundgren,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Moleskins,
The Raincoats,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Lydon,
Y Pants,
Isaac Hayes,
Minny Pops,
Nick Fraelich,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ultra Naté,
Pagans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Monochrome Set,
Con Funk Shun,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eric Dolphy,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.