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 Uganda and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Michelle Simonal to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer 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 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?
The Modern Lovers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pussy Galore,
Metal Thangz,
Quantec,
The Monks,
Todd Rundgren,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nick Fraelich,
kango's stein massive,
Harmonia,
The Walker Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald,
Marshall Jefferson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The J.B.'s,
Jacques Brel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barry Ungar,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Sheep,
Lakeside,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Slick Rick,
Jeff Lynne,
Sun Ra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
AZ,
Wally Richardson,
Tubeway Army,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tears for Fears,
EPMD,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bootsy Collins,
Spoonie Gee,
The Raincoats,
Rufus Thomas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Accadde A,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rotary Connection,
The Saints,
The Sonics,
Sixth Finger,
The Misunderstood,
Rekid,
Big Daddy Kane,
Essential Logic,
Bauhaus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Fortunes,
Underground Resistance,
MC5,
LL Cool J,
Excepter,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.