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 Kyrgyzstan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Slave to the electroclash 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
The Birthday Party,
Quando Quango,
Lindisfarne,
Nico,
Scrapy,
kango's stein massive,
T.S.O.L.,
Aural Exciters,
Danielle Patucci,
Severed Heads,
The Gories,
Main Source,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fat Boys,
The Invisible,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
A Certain Ratio,
The Cowsills,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
Maurizio,
DNA,
Audionom,
Crispy Ambulance,
Godley & Creme,
Pylon,
Make Up,
Organ,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mars,
Bill Wells,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Soft Cell,
Al Stewart,
The Stooges,
Jawbox,
The Martian,
Masters at Work,
The Alarm Clocks,
Vainqueur,
Procol Harum,
Kayak,
Ultra Naté,
Jacob Miller,
T. Rex,
Arab on Radar,
Half Japanese,
Reagan Youth,
The Durutti Column,
The Golliwogs,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Kinks,
Barbara Tucker,
Agitation Free,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.