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 Ecuador and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Knickerbockers to the grime 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar 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 spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Yusef Lateef,
The Smoke,
Terry Callier,
Reuben Wilson,
The Martian,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dawn Penn,
Stereo Dub,
Wasted Youth,
Tears for Fears,
Arab on Radar,
Neil Young,
The Electric Prunes,
Qualms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ludus,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
The Motions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shuggie Otis,
Fugazi,
Patti Smith,
Motorama,
Maurizio,
Tom Boy,
Sight & Sound,
Eric Dolphy,
New York Dolls,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Byrd,
Flipper,
Joensuu 1685,
B.T. Express,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pussy Galore,
Delta 5,
Scientists,
Deadbeat,
Marine Girls,
Goldenarms,
Alton Ellis,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Sonics,
Crime,
Soft Cell,
The Kinks,
Derrick May,
The Busters,
Minor Threat,
Magazine,
Organ,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Near,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gang Green,
Youth Brigade,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
OOIOO,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.