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 Cyprus and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Johnny Clarke to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Nick Fraelich record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gun Club,
Radio Birdman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dual Sessions,
Althea and Donna,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dave Gahan,
Los Fastidios,
Terry Callier,
Interpol,
Japan,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Trumans Water,
Sight & Sound,
Tommy Roe,
The Doors,
Whodini,
Lalann,
Ohio Players,
Pulsallama,
Fear,
Fatback Band,
The Monochrome Set,
The Zeros,
Faraquet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
Swans,
Sun City Girls,
Howard Jones,
Average White Band,
the Slits,
Jeff Mills,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Beau Brummels,
Severed Heads,
John Coltrane,
Fela Kuti,
ABBA,
Bad Manners,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
Jandek,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
Pole,
The Smoke,
Bauhaus,
The Smiths,
Brass Construction,
Gang Starr,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dirtbombs,
Andrew Hill,
Kenny Larkin,
Ossler,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.