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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lungfish to the grime 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer 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 marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Tim Buckley,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Porter Ricks,
Soft Machine,
Toni Rubio,
Lou Reed,
Inner City,
Iggy Pop,
Von Mondo,
Jacob Miller,
Maleditus Sound,
Duran Duran,
The Moody Blues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stereo Dub,
Los Fastidios,
Danielle Patucci,
Camberwell Now,
Sandy B,
Neu!,
Bill Wells,
Babytalk,
The Martian,
Pantaleimon,
Bob Dylan,
The Leaves,
Flamin' Groovies,
Franke,
Bobby Byrd,
Cameo,
Suicide,
Sexual Harrassment,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
A Certain Ratio,
Livin' Joy,
The Smiths,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Patti Smith,
Radiohead,
Malaria!,
Stetsasonic,
Panda Bear,
Wally Richardson,
Bush Tetras,
Dead Boys,
Marine Girls,
The Human League,
Chris Corsano,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Darondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moleskins,
Robert Hood,
New York Dolls,
Gang Green,
Yellowson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alison Limerick,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Swans,
The United States of America,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.