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 Algeria and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Delta 5 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
H. Thieme,
Moss Icon,
Essential Logic,
Harmonia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Funky Four + One,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arab on Radar,
Q65,
Bronski Beat,
Babytalk,
Brand Nubian,
Jacques Brel,
Joyce Sims,
Khruangbin,
Connie Case,
Sandy B,
Reagan Youth,
The Slackers,
Laurel Aitken,
Arthur Verocai,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Flag,
Whodini,
Byron Stingily,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nils Olav,
Ice-T,
Nico,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
Glenn Branca,
Judy Mowatt,
Lightning Bolt,
Ossler,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tears for Fears,
Sällskapet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marc Almond,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barry Ungar,
Marine Girls,
the Germs,
Letta Mbulu,
Maleditus Sound,
The Kinks,
The Martian,
Man Parrish,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.