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 Cape Verde and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim to the funk 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer 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 güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fear,
The Victims,
Kayak,
T.S.O.L.,
Joe Finger,
The Selecter,
X-101,
Crooked Eye,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Joyce Sims,
Essential Logic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
R.M.O.,
U.S. Maple,
the Germs,
Sugar Minott,
The Young Rascals,
Unwound,
Dennis Brown,
Al Stewart,
Silicon Teens,
Grauzone,
Grey Daturas,
The Saints,
Todd Terry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
Cymande,
Glenn Branca,
X-Ray Spex,
Minny Pops,
Neu!,
Pierre Henry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Music Machine,
Fad Gadget,
Bad Manners,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barclay James Harvest,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aswad,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wire,
The Dirtbombs,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Pharoah Sanders,
Erasure,
The Grass Roots,
Malaria!,
Freddie Wadling,
Barry Ungar,
The Stooges,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.