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 South Sudan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Edmonton and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Japan to the electroclash 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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Unwound,
Colin Newman,
Aural Exciters,
Los Fastidios,
Cecil Taylor,
Ronan,
The Cure,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Style,
Qualms,
The Beau Brummels,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gastr Del Sol,
Avey Tare,
Monolake,
Harry Pussy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Intrusion,
Aaron Thompson,
Wasted Youth,
Max Romeo,
Black Sheep,
The Alarm Clocks,
Audionom,
LL Cool J,
Yaz,
Funky Four + One,
Agitation Free,
Chrome,
Brothers Johnson,
Fluxion,
Panda Bear,
the Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Boz Scaggs,
Can,
Ken Boothe,
Joensuu 1685,
X-102,
Cameo,
Subhumans,
Joy Division,
Country Teasers,
X-101,
Maleditus Sound,
Joey Negro,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scion,
The Gories,
Lucky Dragons,
Royal Trux,
Babytalk,
Arab on Radar,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.