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 Macedonia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Susan Cadogan to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
The Raincoats,
John Cale,
Gang of Four,
Supertramp,
Henry Cow,
Theoretical Girls,
The Music Machine,
Nik Kershaw,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
Guru Guru,
Sexual Harrassment,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sister Nancy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Blossom Toes,
Monolake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultra Naté,
The Cowsills,
Slick Rick,
The Golliwogs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pagans,
The Smiths,
Stetsasonic,
Q and Not U,
Scientists,
Basic Channel,
Ultravox,
Gong,
R.M.O.,
Funkadelic,
Warren Ellis,
The Misunderstood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arcadia,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
Graham Central Station,
Johnny Clarke,
June Days,
Oblivians,
Porter Ricks,
FM Einheit,
Underground Resistance,
Boredoms,
Lakeside,
Ohio Players,
Soft Cell,
Yusef Lateef,
Derrick Morgan,
Aloha Tigers,
Kenny Larkin,
Toni Rubio,
Lalann,
Country Teasers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.