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 Rwanda and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Erykah Badu to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Albert Ayler,
Inner City,
The Martian,
Ultra Naté,
Country Teasers,
Skarface,
Mandrill,
Moby Grape,
AZ,
Nico,
Ronnie Foster,
Boz Scaggs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
Liliput,
Pantaleimon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brass Construction,
Pierre Henry,
The Gun Club,
Roxette,
The Count Five,
The Moody Blues,
Nik Kershaw,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The New Christs,
Chrome,
Circle Jerks,
Lindisfarne,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
Soul II Soul,
Saccharine Trust,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brand Nubian,
The Zeros,
Unrelated Segments,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pussy Galore,
The Black Dice,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yazoo,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dirtbombs,
Magazine,
Amazonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Last Poets,
Bluetip,
Newcleus,
Sarah Menescal,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers,
Severed Heads,
Faraquet,
JFA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lou Christie,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.