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 France and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Yazoo to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba 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 linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
T.S.O.L.,
Minny Pops,
David McCallum,
Soul Sonic Force,
Reuben Wilson,
Alphaville,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
Alice Coltrane,
Drexciya,
Hasil Adkins,
a-ha,
Gang Gang Dance,
Reagan Youth,
Tim Buckley,
Mad Mike,
The Vogues,
L. Decosne,
the Sonics,
The Move,
Das Ding,
Jacob Miller,
Sex Pistols,
Rufus Thomas,
the Normal,
Audionom,
Aswad,
D'Angelo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warren Ellis,
Colin Newman,
Graham Central Station,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Womack,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mission of Burma,
Zapp,
the Slits,
Kevin Saunderson,
Negative Approach,
Lakeside,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wally Richardson,
Procol Harum,
Bluetip,
Lucky Dragons,
Icehouse,
The Invisible,
X-101,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The New Christs,
The Pop Group,
Toni Rubio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rod Modell,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.