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 St Lucia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Camouflage to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bill Wells,
The Remains,
Interpol,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pantytec,
Black Bananas,
X-Ray Spex,
Minnie Riperton,
Graham Central Station,
Bootsy Collins,
Fugazi,
Soft Machine,
Angry Samoans,
The Blackbyrds,
Neu!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
cv313,
Swell Maps,
The Martian,
David McCallum,
Spoonie Gee,
Skriet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deadbeat,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Andrew Hill,
Lakeside,
Derrick May,
Barry Ungar,
Simply Red,
Crash Course in Science,
Nas,
Shuggie Otis,
Von Mondo,
Kas Product,
Oneida,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
The Fortunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Smiths,
Stereo Dub,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Can,
Minor Threat,
Tears for Fears,
AZ,
KRS-One,
Josef K,
Quando Quango,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marvin Gaye,
Underground Resistance,
Nation of Ulysses,
New Age Steppers,
Funkadelic,
Roxette,
Zero Boys,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
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.