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 Antigua and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Radiopuhelimet to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 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 marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Marine Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Barbara Tucker,
Mr. Review,
Ludus,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Cowsills,
Maurizio,
The Mummies,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wire,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Janne Schatter,
Agitation Free,
Black Moon,
Peter and Kerry,
Ten City,
Y Pants,
Gabor Szabo,
The Names,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Das Ding,
Con Funk Shun,
FM Einheit,
The Red Krayola,
Warsaw,
In Retrospect,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gang of Four,
New Age Steppers,
Danielle Patucci,
Reagan Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barry Ungar,
Godley & Creme,
Skaos,
Tropical Tobacco,
Donald Byrd,
The Residents,
Nas,
Alison Limerick,
Fear,
Anakelly,
Infiniti,
Urselle,
Leonard Cohen,
China Crisis,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Byron Stingily,
Dennis Brown,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Young Marble Giants,
Make Up,
Steve Hackett,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.