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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 X-Ray Spex to the grime 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a synthesizer and a theremin 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Sam Rivers,
U.S. Maple,
Bob Dylan,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Henry Cow,
Soft Machine,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sällskapet,
Mo-Dettes,
The Black Dice,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Hood,
Dual Sessions,
Boredoms,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
Matthew Bourne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crispian St. Peters,
Subhumans,
Patti Smith,
Underground Resistance,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minutemen,
The Mummies,
Lalann,
Pharoah Sanders,
Los Fastidios,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reuben Wilson,
DJ Sneak,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Saccharine Trust,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Osbourne,
Khruangbin,
Piero Umiliani,
Panda Bear,
Cymande,
Mad Mike,
The Skatalites,
June of 44,
cv313,
Fear,
The Moleskins,
Minor Threat,
Oblivians,
Cal Tjader,
Moby Grape,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
JFA,
Shoche,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Zapp,
Sound Behaviour,
CMW,
Stetsasonic,
James White and The Blacks,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.