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 Dominican Republic and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar 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 Faraquet to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Camouflage,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cluster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eddi Front,
Bang On A Can,
a-ha,
Magazine,
Roy Ayers,
The Misunderstood,
New York Dolls,
Lightning Bolt,
Brass Construction,
Hasil Adkins,
The J.B.'s,
The Standells,
A Certain Ratio,
Wire,
Susan Cadogan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Youth Brigade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
Grandmaster Flash,
Au Pairs,
Fela Kuti,
Jawbox,
Intrusion,
Jeru the Damaja,
Panda Bear,
Bronski Beat,
Toni Rubio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Trumans Water,
Infiniti,
The Birthday Party,
Organ,
Pantaleimon,
T.S.O.L.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Schoolly D,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Spandau Ballet,
Tres Demented,
Monks,
Zero Boys,
Barclay James Harvest,
Reagan Youth,
Josef K,
Roxette,
The Doobie Brothers,
Technova,
The Searchers,
The Barracudas,
Liliput,
Marvin Gaye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barrington Levy,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.