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 Moldova and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba 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 Newcleus to the jazz 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 clarinet and a synthesizer 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 theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scratch Acid,
Ponytail,
The Modern Lovers,
Skaos,
Soft Machine,
Average White Band,
Clear Light,
Severed Heads,
MC5,
Sandy B,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fad Gadget,
Charles Mingus,
Radiohead,
Lindisfarne,
Au Pairs,
Monolake,
Rod Modell,
Infiniti,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
Brass Construction,
The Stooges,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Camberwell Now,
Tears for Fears,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rites of Spring,
Stereo Dub,
Scion,
Pole,
Lebanon Hanover,
Albert Ayler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q65,
Drexciya,
Liliput,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Little Man,
Joe Finger,
Tommy Roe,
Scientists,
Morten Harket,
Soulsonic Force,
Bronski Beat,
Laurel Aitken,
Pussy Galore,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gladiators,
Mo-Dettes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Leaves,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.