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 Armenia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a guitar and a sitar 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 güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
48th St. Collective,
JFA,
Schoolly D,
Franke,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pole,
Massinfluence,
Section 25,
The Cure,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Leaves,
The Fugs,
Magma,
the Germs,
Loose Ends,
Sam Rivers,
Tommy Roe,
Reagan Youth,
Rotary Connection,
OOIOO,
Quantec,
Severed Heads,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fugazi,
U.S. Maple,
The Durutti Column,
The Slackers,
The Golliwogs,
Black Flag,
Letta Mbulu,
Grauzone,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Index,
Darondo,
The Gladiators,
Circle Jerks,
The Martian,
Eden Ahbez,
The J.B.'s,
Pere Ubu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Desert Stars,
Lou Christie,
Danielle Patucci,
Essential Logic,
Yazoo,
Sight & Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Patti Smith,
EPMD,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rapeman,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aural Exciters,
Slave,
The Dead C,
Audionom,
Ossler,
Connie Case,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.