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 Morocco and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Agitation Free to the punk 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 Fall. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Boredoms,
Vladislav Delay,
Q65,
Juan Atkins,
The Count Five,
Glenn Branca,
Byron Stingily,
The Dead C,
Bizarre Inc.,
Oneida,
The Sonics,
AZ,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Amazonics,
Mad Mike,
Matthew Bourne,
the Association,
Connie Case,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
In Retrospect,
Minnie Riperton,
Kerrie Biddell,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lee Hazlewood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Sound,
New Order,
The Monochrome Set,
Ohio Players,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Section 25,
Television Personalities,
The Five Americans,
Monolake,
Agent Orange,
Flipper,
Freddie Wadling,
The Real Kids,
The Fire Engines,
Essential Logic,
Heaven 17,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bluetip,
Lightning Bolt,
Sex Pistols,
Thee Headcoats,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sixth Finger,
Barrington Levy,
Drexciya,
Warsaw,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fear,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
Sonny Sharrock,
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.