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 Venezuela and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Malaria! to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 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 harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Aaron Thompson,
Roy Ayers,
Nirvana,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
Stockholm Monsters,
Young Marble Giants,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronnie Foster,
Amon Düül II,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deepchord,
The Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Sarah Menescal,
10cc,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moleskins,
Rekid,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
Electric Prunes,
Roxy Music,
ABC,
Reagan Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nick Fraelich,
Easy Going,
OOIOO,
The Mummies,
Nils Olav,
Minny Pops,
Rotary Connection,
Mars,
Kayak,
Lindisfarne,
The Modern Lovers,
Smog,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Toasters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lou Christie,
Danielle Patucci,
Ronan,
Oblivians,
Grauzone,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Durutti Column,
E-Dancer,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Womack,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Buckinghams,
Whodini,
Symarip,
David Bowie,
The Gap Band,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.