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 Thailand and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Todd Rundgren to the rap 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Görl record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Black Sheep,
Lindisfarne,
Charles Mingus,
Vladislav Delay,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Excepter,
H. Thieme,
Howard Jones,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
Supertramp,
Hardrive,
Brass Construction,
Lalann,
Warsaw,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronan,
Lungfish,
Pantytec,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tropical Tobacco,
Byron Stingily,
B.T. Express,
China Crisis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
The Knickerbockers,
Graham Central Station,
Bush Tetras,
Niagra,
Wings,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Spoonie Gee,
The Angels of Light,
Skarface,
the Fania All-Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mark Hollis,
Bad Manners,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Guru Guru,
Q65,
Robert Görl,
Moss Icon,
Kenny Larkin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Beau Brummels,
New Age Steppers,
Aloha Tigers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fluxion,
Con Funk Shun,
Chris Corsano,
Arcadia,
Carl Craig,
The Invisible,
Loose Ends,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.