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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pussy Galore to the electroclash 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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes 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 theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Rufus Thomas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barbara Tucker,
Babytalk,
Jimmy McGriff,
Q and Not U,
June of 44,
Kerri Chandler,
Swans,
Ken Boothe,
Bush Tetras,
Black Flag,
Sam Rivers,
Excepter,
Maurizio,
Dead Boys,
Byron Stingily,
The Invisible,
Colin Newman,
Rotary Connection,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Residents,
The Names,
Lee Hazlewood,
Theoretical Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lungfish,
Peter & Gordon,
Deadbeat,
David McCallum,
Lou Reed,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Alice Coltrane,
Radiohead,
Von Mondo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mo-Dettes,
The Toasters,
Carl Craig,
Lou Christie,
X-Ray Spex,
Cluster,
Junior Murvin,
Gong,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Desert Stars,
Bill Wells,
Darondo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Y Pants,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ronnie Foster,
Intrusion,
T.S.O.L.,
Erasure,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aural Exciters,
Al Stewart,
Grey Daturas,
Morten Harket,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neu!,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.