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 Singapore and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mission of Burma 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator 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 arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Supertramp,
Crime,
Kaleidoscope,
Alton Ellis,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grauzone,
B.T. Express,
Das Ding,
Soft Machine,
Anakelly,
K-Klass,
Hoover,
Mr. Review,
Scion,
JFA,
the Germs,
The Grass Roots,
Brand Nubian,
Boredoms,
The New Christs,
Sam Rivers,
Q65,
Bang On A Can,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
Black Bananas,
Sister Nancy,
Pantytec,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantaleimon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hot Snakes,
New York Dolls,
The Moleskins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Urselle,
Barbara Tucker,
Ohio Players,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Gories,
Black Flag,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lalo Schifrin,
Skarface,
Black Moon,
Fluxion,
Nils Olav,
Patti Smith,
Mad Mike,
Qualms,
Fatback Band,
Can,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pole,
Piero Umiliani,
The Techniques,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.