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 Cameroon and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Skaos to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Busters,
Fat Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sparks,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Curtis Mayfield,
Technova,
David Axelrod,
Grauzone,
Josef K,
Ten City,
Talk Talk,
Jerry's Kids,
Aaron Thompson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
R.M.O.,
8 Eyed Spy,
Half Japanese,
Minutemen,
The Dead C,
the Bar-Kays,
D'Angelo,
The Index,
Delta 5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joe Smooth,
The Skatalites,
The Red Krayola,
Alton Ellis,
Ken Boothe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
Yazoo,
Charles Mingus,
Flipper,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roger Hodgson,
Popol Vuh,
Aural Exciters,
The Standells,
the Germs,
Idris Muhammad,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
John Foxx,
Blossom Toes,
Spandau Ballet,
The United States of America,
Outsiders,
Banda Bassotti,
Shoche,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.