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 Croatia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the dance 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
Sound Behaviour,
The Star Department,
Nation of Ulysses,
Public Enemy,
Franke,
Delta 5,
Rosa Yemen,
the Germs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Monks,
Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
Scott Walker,
Kenny Larkin,
Sister Nancy,
Amon Düül,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marmalade,
Das Ding,
Sarah Menescal,
Porter Ricks,
Henry Cow,
Maurizio,
Pierre Henry,
Gabor Szabo,
Circle Jerks,
Main Source,
Echospace,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Isaac Hayes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Schoolly D,
Urselle,
Dead Boys,
The Smoke,
Thompson Twins,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
Interpol,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arcadia,
The Names,
Janne Schatter,
Crash Course in Science,
Matthew Halsall,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Angry Samoans,
Gang of Four,
Mission of Burma,
Animal Collective,
Bill Near,
Deakin,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Gichy Dan,
Lyres,
Organ,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.