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 Malta and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eli Mardock to the grime 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Urselle,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Vogues,
Make Up,
Cameo,
Shoche,
The Seeds,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grey Daturas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Normal,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Dead C,
Rites of Spring,
The Real Kids,
Section 25,
The Angels of Light,
Franke,
Scratch Acid,
ABBA,
Eden Ahbez,
Kas Product,
Echospace,
John Foxx,
Deadbeat,
Ornette Coleman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultra Naté,
Wire,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Funky Four + One,
Bill Near,
Eric Dolphy,
Minor Threat,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roxette,
The Smiths,
Iggy Pop,
The Raincoats,
Malaria!,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fire Engines,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Symarip,
Moby Grape,
The Slackers,
Yellowson,
Altered Images,
Skriet,
the Sonics,
The Searchers,
Pagans,
The Monochrome Set,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Letta Mbulu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minnie Riperton,
Mr. Review,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.