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 Latvia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin 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 Kerrie Biddell to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro 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 chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agitation Free,
The Wake,
China Crisis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hoover,
Babytalk,
Panda Bear,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Monochrome Set,
Desert Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Bananas,
Au Pairs,
Japan,
Marmalade,
DJ Sneak,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yazoo,
Section 25,
Eric Copeland,
Los Fastidios,
The Index,
Ice-T,
Audionom,
Henry Cow,
Pylon,
Gabor Szabo,
Royal Trux,
The Mummies,
Wasted Youth,
The Music Machine,
Faust,
Goldenarms,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Grey Daturas,
Roxy Music,
Eli Mardock,
Reagan Youth,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Arab on Radar,
X-Ray Spex,
Prince Buster,
Joe Finger,
Jacob Miller,
Don Cherry,
ABC,
Little Man,
The Young Rascals,
R.M.O.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doors,
Public Enemy,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.