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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 KRS-One to the punk 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe 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 linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
John Holt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pulsallama,
Vainqueur,
Siglo XX,
DNA,
The Sonics,
Cymande,
Saccharine Trust,
Flipper,
Quantec,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Gang Dance,
Oblivians,
Livin' Joy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sarah Menescal,
Symarip,
Brass Construction,
Sam Rivers,
Magazine,
Skriet,
Eve St. Jones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monochrome Set,
Moby Grape,
Terry Callier,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soulsonic Force,
Thompson Twins,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-101,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultravox,
Tomorrow,
Sound Behaviour,
Ronan,
The Invisible,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The New Christs,
Joey Negro,
The Music Machine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
EPMD,
Average White Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Tim Buckley,
Fad Gadget,
Amazonics,
Wings,
Unrelated Segments,
The Gories,
Gregory Isaacs,
Yaz,
Royal Trux,
Isaac Hayes,
Alphaville,
Nico,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.