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 Togo and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gichy Dan to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator 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 snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Amazonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Pussy Galore,
The Smoke,
Quando Quango,
Lightning Bolt,
John Lydon,
Eurythmics,
Siglo XX,
The Red Krayola,
Fela Kuti,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pagans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The United States of America,
Spoonie Gee,
World's Most,
Glambeats Corp.,
Todd Terry,
June of 44,
PIL,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
The Associates,
David Axelrod,
Sight & Sound,
Scion,
Circle Jerks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
AZ,
Prince Buster,
Agitation Free,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kayak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Suicide,
Mark Hollis,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nico,
Mad Mike,
Lyres,
The Grass Roots,
Schoolly D,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dead C,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Letta Mbulu,
Outsiders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Buzzcocks,
Bush Tetras,
Kaleidoscope,
Marc Almond,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jeff Mills,
E-Dancer,
The Birthday Party,
The Skatalites,
Robert Görl,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.