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 Swaziland and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantaleimon to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
The Fortunes,
The Cure,
The Doors,
Rapeman,
Brothers Johnson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Inner City,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moebius,
Amon Düül II,
Monolake,
Aloha Tigers,
Dave Gahan,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
the Slits,
Bang On A Can,
Bill Near,
Suburban Knight,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Unrelated Segments,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jawbox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Skarface,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Normal,
Mars,
Gang of Four,
Schoolly D,
Albert Ayler,
Drexciya,
Scientists,
Ultravox,
Girls At Our Best!,
Surgeon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
Robert Hood,
Silicon Teens,
Dennis Brown,
Crash Course in Science,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nico,
Black Pus,
Funky Four + One,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brick,
Bobby Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Adolescents,
KRS-One,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.