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 Belarus and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a linndrum 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 mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rod Modell,
DJ Sneak,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Graham Central Station,
Jeff Mills,
Marine Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Index,
The Real Kids,
Tim Buckley,
The Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fall,
Crispy Ambulance,
World's Most,
Ronan,
Nils Olav,
La Düsseldorf,
Symarip,
Bang On A Can,
Joe Finger,
OOIOO,
Sam Rivers,
Jawbox,
CMW,
Severed Heads,
Roy Ayers,
Marc Almond,
Roxette,
The Beau Brummels,
Second Layer,
Black Bananas,
The Golliwogs,
Jandek,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Black Sheep,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ludus,
Skarface,
Terry Callier,
Fatback Band,
The Durutti Column,
David Axelrod,
The Angels of Light,
Neil Young,
Blake Baxter,
Simply Red,
Johnny Clarke,
Peter and Kerry,
Jacob Miller,
The Tremeloes,
Agitation Free,
Zapp,
The Moody Blues,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.