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 Barbados and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Cheater Slicks to the funk 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar 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 synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Qualms,
Dual Sessions,
ABC,
Yusef Lateef,
Lalo Schifrin,
AZ,
KRS-One,
Thompson Twins,
Buzzcocks,
EPMD,
Agitation Free,
Technova,
Ornette Coleman,
The Wake,
Marmalade,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Doobie Brothers,
Colin Newman,
The Gories,
Fugazi,
Monolake,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Teasers,
Sister Nancy,
Barbara Tucker,
Pierre Henry,
Wire,
Magma,
Zapp,
Black Sheep,
Cecil Taylor,
Intrusion,
Dark Day,
Yazoo,
Yaz,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Victims,
The Zeros,
The Sound,
Ronan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fortunes,
Stiv Bators,
Ohio Players,
Symarip,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Vainqueur,
Au Pairs,
Davy DMX,
Section 25,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dawn Penn,
Kerrie Biddell,
Joyce Sims,
Todd Terry,
Pagans,
Warsaw,
Fluxion,
Wally Richardson,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.