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 Madagascar and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Monks to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin 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 arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Junior Murvin,
Little Man,
The Star Department,
Symarip,
Magma,
Harmonia,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Moleskins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Faraquet,
The Music Machine,
June Days,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Silicon Teens,
Alphaville,
Crime,
Barrington Levy,
Bronski Beat,
Soul II Soul,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rites of Spring,
The Mummies,
The Cure,
The Stooges,
Monks,
Mandrill,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Stetsasonic,
The Skatalites,
Absolute Body Control,
Amon Düül,
Unrelated Segments,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Hood,
Albert Ayler,
Wire,
Marmalade,
Icehouse,
Maurizio,
Ice-T,
Excepter,
Nas,
Byron Stingily,
Howard Jones,
Tommy Roe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Young Rascals,
Pierre Henry,
Royal Trux,
The Durutti Column,
Easy Going,
Camberwell Now,
the Human League,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Vogues,
David McCallum,
Talk Talk,
Babytalk,
Tres Demented,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.