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 Philippines and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 James White and The Blacks to the grunge 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer 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 organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Terry Callier,
Youth Brigade,
DNA,
Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Urselle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Bar-Kays,
Eden Ahbez,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mars,
Adolescents,
Sun City Girls,
Icehouse,
Steve Hackett,
Procol Harum,
Chrome,
Bobby Sherman,
Masters at Work,
Charles Mingus,
Jacques Brel,
Television Personalities,
Drexciya,
48th St. Collective,
Rod Modell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bauhaus,
Inner City,
June of 44,
The Black Dice,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Wake,
Erykah Badu,
The Mojo Men,
Althea and Donna,
Popol Vuh,
The Skatalites,
Bang On A Can,
Pole,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roxette,
Piero Umiliani,
Michelle Simonal,
The Cramps,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gichy Dan,
Nas,
The Durutti Column,
Easy Going,
The Flesh Eaters,
Slick Rick,
Faraquet,
Darondo,
Robert Wyatt,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Gories,
The Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
Maurizio,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.