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 South Africa and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe 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 Ituana to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
Angry Samoans,
Theoretical Girls,
Al Stewart,
Prince Buster,
Y Pants,
Lindisfarne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marmalade,
Los Fastidios,
The Knickerbockers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Connie Case,
Scion,
Monolake,
Janne Schatter,
Bobby Womack,
Zapp,
Matthew Bourne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sex Pistols,
Joyce Sims,
Alphaville,
Dead Boys,
Hardrive,
The Blackbyrds,
The Kinks,
Piero Umiliani,
Thee Headcoats,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Techniques,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blake Baxter,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
T.S.O.L.,
Little Man,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Henry Cow,
Country Teasers,
The Misunderstood,
ABC,
The Fuzztones,
Black Flag,
Thompson Twins,
Derrick May,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scott Walker,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Clarke,
48th St. Collective,
Tears for Fears,
Khruangbin,
James White and The Blacks,
Skarface,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bill Near,
Neu!,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.