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 Korea North and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Grandmaster Flash to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet 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 rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scrapy,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fortunes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Robert Görl,
The Smoke,
Angry Samoans,
Sight & Sound,
Al Stewart,
Scion,
The Divine Comedy,
Banda Bassotti,
Smog,
Ice-T,
Gabor Szabo,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish,
Public Enemy,
Fugazi,
Gang of Four,
Faust,
Magma,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Peter & Gordon,
Oneida,
Icehouse,
Absolute Body Control,
John Lydon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yellowson,
Eddi Front,
The Golliwogs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Mills,
The Techniques,
Jandek,
The Moleskins,
Quando Quango,
The Cramps,
Glambeats Corp.,
Chrome,
Audionom,
Don Cherry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gichy Dan,
Sugar Minott,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wolf Eyes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Half Japanese,
The Slackers,
Basic Channel,
Johnny Clarke,
Roy Ayers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Schoolly D,
Porter Ricks,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.