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 Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the punk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 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 spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
The Gun Club,
Ornette Coleman,
the Association,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Connie Case,
Mo-Dettes,
Scrapy,
New York Dolls,
Jacob Miller,
X-Ray Spex,
Sugar Minott,
Skriet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ossler,
Minor Threat,
The Modern Lovers,
Pere Ubu,
U.S. Maple,
Donald Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
Moss Icon,
Tom Boy,
Sun Ra,
Funkadelic,
Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
JFA,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Byrd,
The Zeros,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
Mars,
Flamin' Groovies,
H. Thieme,
K-Klass,
Metal Thangz,
World's Most,
Lou Reed,
Scratch Acid,
John Foxx,
Crispy Ambulance,
David McCallum,
the Sonics,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Sheep,
Danielle Patucci,
Mr. Review,
Chris & Cosey,
Organ,
Liliput,
The Buckinghams,
The Barracudas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Franke,
The Blackbyrds,
Funky Four + One,
Kas Product,
Brass Construction,
Nirvana,
Erasure,
The Gories,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.