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 Haiti and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 The Angels of Light to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
The Offenders,
ABBA,
Agent Orange,
Animal Collective,
David McCallum,
New Age Steppers,
Electric Prunes,
Oblivians,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grauzone,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Görl,
Bang On A Can,
Fela Kuti,
The Black Dice,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Techniques,
Cal Tjader,
Jacques Brel,
Shuggie Otis,
The Pop Group,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
Swans,
Glenn Branca,
Lower 48,
Nation of Ulysses,
Amazonics,
The Gories,
Traffic Nightmare,
Max Romeo,
Suicide,
Joyce Sims,
Flipper,
London Community Gospel Choir,
cv313,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Coltrane,
Mantronix,
Aswad,
X-101,
EPMD,
Toni Rubio,
Dead Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
Terrestrial Tones,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
the Human League,
Schoolly D,
Matthew Bourne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Moon,
The Cure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Association,
Visage,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Green,
Make Up,
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.