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 Belgium and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet 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 snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
Harry Pussy,
Ultravox,
Suburban Knight,
Black Moon,
Funkadelic,
Organ,
Bobby Byrd,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Residents,
The Saints,
Average White Band,
Qualms,
Adolescents,
Groovy Waters,
Public Enemy,
Dennis Brown,
Soul Sonic Force,
Faraquet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cal Tjader,
The Star Department,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scion,
The Martian,
Swans,
The Golliwogs,
Toni Rubio,
Donny Hathaway,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scrapy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Panda Bear,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang of Four,
Popol Vuh,
Motorama,
Wolf Eyes,
K-Klass,
Joyce Sims,
John Holt,
F. McDonald,
In Retrospect,
The Selecter,
Cymande,
Franke,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Anthony Braxton,
David Bowie,
Eddi Front,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mars,
Visage,
Von Mondo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Inner City,
Audionom,
Erasure,
Trumans Water,
Flipper,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.