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 France and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Piero Umiliani to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro 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 spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Toni Rubio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rosa Yemen,
Alphaville,
Idris Muhammad,
Suburban Knight,
Tubeway Army,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gun Club,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Funky Four + One,
Suicide,
Minor Threat,
The Mojo Men,
Chris Corsano,
Steve Hackett,
Ituana,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kayak,
Youth Brigade,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
In Retrospect,
The Slits,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ten City,
Masters at Work,
Radiohead,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ronnie Foster,
The Saints,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cramps,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
DJ Style,
The Remains,
Boredoms,
The Raincoats,
Henry Cow,
Lucky Dragons,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eden Ahbez,
H. Thieme,
Tom Boy,
Cecil Taylor,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Dolphy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Prince Buster,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blake Baxter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Star Department,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Swell Maps,
Ultravox,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.