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 Uganda and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Fortunes to the disco 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron 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 organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Robert Hood,
Masters at Work,
The Smiths,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bluetip,
Jeff Lynne,
the Soft Cell,
The Cure,
Slick Rick,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marmalade,
Eddi Front,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gap Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Easy Going,
Ultra Naté,
Amazonics,
Mission of Burma,
Organ,
Jandek,
The New Christs,
The Velvet Underground,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Al Stewart,
The Black Dice,
Gabor Szabo,
Zapp,
Rotary Connection,
Dead Boys,
Neil Young,
Ken Boothe,
Eric B and Rakim,
Surgeon,
Sonic Youth,
The Raincoats,
Sandy B,
The Toasters,
Big Daddy Kane,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yazoo,
Adolescents,
Tom Boy,
The Selecter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hot Snakes,
48th St. Collective,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Parrish,
The Fuzztones,
Echospace,
The Names,
Prince Buster,
Jacques Brel,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.