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 East Timor and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba 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 Prince Buster to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 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 harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mad Mike,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Modern Lovers,
The Count Five,
Ten City,
Alice Coltrane,
Terry Callier,
the Association,
The Birthday Party,
New Age Steppers,
Main Source,
The Smiths,
The Slits,
The Kinks,
In Retrospect,
The Associates,
The Electric Prunes,
Aloha Tigers,
Mark Hollis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
James White and The Blacks,
Matthew Bourne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Don Cherry,
Howard Jones,
The Index,
Lightning Bolt,
The Sound,
Yellowson,
Malaria!,
Soulsonic Force,
The Cramps,
The Blackbyrds,
Masters at Work,
Darondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Q and Not U,
Maleditus Sound,
Sun Ra,
Fad Gadget,
Brand Nubian,
Prince Buster,
Smog,
Organ,
The Victims,
Boz Scaggs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Steve Hackett,
Gil Scott Heron,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Saccharine Trust,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.