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 New Zealand and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Angry Samoans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin 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 güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Teasers,
Mandrill,
Judy Mowatt,
Kayak,
X-101,
L. Decosne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Moon,
Barrington Levy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jandek,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jeff Mills,
DNA,
Kurtis Blow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Swans,
Bill Near,
Joensuu 1685,
Al Stewart,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Lynne,
Scion,
The Young Rascals,
F. McDonald,
Unrelated Segments,
Model 500,
T. Rex,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slits,
Warren Ellis,
Warsaw,
Rakim,
The Wake,
The Invisible,
Marvin Gaye,
Sonny Sharrock,
Toni Rubio,
The Associates,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mr. Review,
the Sonics,
Pulsallama,
Brand Nubian,
The Golliwogs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
X-102,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Peter and Kerry,
Duran Duran,
The Cramps,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.