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 Nepal and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 These Immortal Souls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 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 a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Pus,
Godley & Creme,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bronski Beat,
The Toasters,
Letta Mbulu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mission of Burma,
The Dave Clark Five,
Wolf Eyes,
John Coltrane,
Little Man,
the Germs,
Porter Ricks,
Organ,
Model 500,
Pharoah Sanders,
Audionom,
The Young Rascals,
Aloha Tigers,
Spandau Ballet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Con Funk Shun,
The Birthday Party,
Shoche,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The New Christs,
Parry Music,
The Residents,
Grandmaster Flash,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
ABBA,
Desert Stars,
Babytalk,
DJ Style,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Danielle Patucci,
Bluetip,
Groovy Waters,
Massinfluence,
Arab on Radar,
Tom Boy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Morten Harket,
Deakin,
Al Stewart,
FM Einheit,
Althea and Donna,
Janne Schatter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Q and Not U,
Pagans,
Lou Christie,
Kenny Larkin,
Moss Icon,
Black Moon,
Basic Channel,
The Stooges,
Angry Samoans,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.