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 Russia and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Charles Mingus to the grunge 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 Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Nation of Ulysses,
Heaven 17,
Half Japanese,
the Germs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The J.B.'s,
The Saints,
The Smoke,
Judy Mowatt,
JFA,
Gang of Four,
Infiniti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Loose Ends,
Brick,
The Wake,
The Divine Comedy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Toni Rubio,
The New Christs,
Robert Görl,
The Durutti Column,
Sonic Youth,
Talk Talk,
The Fuzztones,
Rufus Thomas,
Rod Modell,
Hoover,
Country Teasers,
June Days,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Morten Harket,
X-102,
Aswad,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
Bobby Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Sex Pistols,
Brass Construction,
Terry Callier,
Bluetip,
Lower 48,
Ludus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Cymande,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sandy B,
Ultra Naté,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gories,
The Velvet Underground,
The Moody Blues,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gap Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pierre Henry,
Flash Fearless,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.