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 Kyrgyzstan and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Electric Prunes to the grime 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a linndrum 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 oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Soft Machine,
Metal Thangz,
Faraquet,
Carl Craig,
Henry Cow,
Arcadia,
Ken Boothe,
John Coltrane,
Andrew Hill,
Quadrant,
Aaron Thompson,
Brick,
The Saints,
Steve Hackett,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantaleimon,
Scion,
Rekid,
Sparks,
Deadbeat,
Symarip,
The Young Rascals,
JFA,
Essential Logic,
Eddi Front,
Grey Daturas,
Bobby Byrd,
The Misunderstood,
Q65,
Zapp,
Spoonie Gee,
Camberwell Now,
The Dead C,
Ornette Coleman,
Jacques Brel,
Frankie Knuckles,
Junior Murvin,
Unwound,
Radio Birdman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deakin,
The Buckinghams,
Cheater Slicks,
Suicide,
Moebius,
Eric Copeland,
Adolescents,
Suburban Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deepchord,
Das Ding,
Boz Scaggs,
Robert Hood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Yaz,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.