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 Andorra and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Q and Not U to the dance 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Stiv Bators,
Ituana,
Urselle,
John Foxx,
Robert Hood,
Albert Ayler,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Clear Light,
the Soft Cell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Niagra,
Inner City,
Nas,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yaz,
Oneida,
Sexual Harrassment,
Y Pants,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cybotron,
Livin' Joy,
Technova,
The Pop Group,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mark Hollis,
The Index,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Colin Newman,
Donald Byrd,
The Star Department,
the Normal,
Swell Maps,
Smog,
Deadbeat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Christie,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lyres,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Warren Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Eddi Front,
Television Personalities,
Basic Channel,
Erykah Badu,
Fatback Band,
Brass Construction,
Gang Starr,
Make Up,
Ossler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dennis Brown,
Monolake,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.