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 Congo and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ 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 clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Eli Mardock,
Dark Day,
The Angels of Light,
Glambeats Corp.,
Desert Stars,
Rekid,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tommy Roe,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wolf Eyes,
Massinfluence,
Excepter,
Soulsonic Force,
The Gladiators,
Erykah Badu,
Second Layer,
Moby Grape,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dead C,
Warren Ellis,
The Music Machine,
Swans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Public Enemy,
Colin Newman,
F. McDonald,
Bush Tetras,
Main Source,
Sixth Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
Soft Machine,
Interpol,
The Martian,
David Bowie,
Silicon Teens,
Sister Nancy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sun Ra,
Qualms,
Loose Ends,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Knickerbockers,
Crash Course in Science,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Spoonie Gee,
Charles Mingus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lou Reed,
Liliput,
Theoretical Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Johnny Clarke,
David Axelrod,
Stiv Bators,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.