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 United Kingdom and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Country Teasers to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord 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 organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Sight & Sound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Byron Stingily,
Ossler,
Theoretical Girls,
The Tremeloes,
LL Cool J,
Das Ding,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Iggy Pop,
The Move,
Mission of Burma,
Eden Ahbez,
Aaron Thompson,
The Red Krayola,
Glambeats Corp.,
Loose Ends,
Jandek,
Carl Craig,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
The Remains,
Bronski Beat,
A Certain Ratio,
Robert Hood,
Danielle Patucci,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fortunes,
Faust,
Minutemen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxy Music,
Popol Vuh,
Arthur Verocai,
Funkadelic,
Slave,
Lalann,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brick,
Skriet,
Gerry Rafferty,
Arab on Radar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Wells,
MDC,
X-102,
The Seeds,
The Cowsills,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marine Girls,
DNA,
the Association,
Severed Heads,
Moss Icon,
The Smoke,
Camouflage,
Gong,
Schoolly D,
Leonard Cohen,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.