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 Belarus and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Moss Icon to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 a marimba and a güiro 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 harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Birthday Party,
Ten City,
Idris Muhammad,
Nils Olav,
Rakim,
Spandau Ballet,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Flamin' Groovies,
Loose Ends,
Deepchord,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Outsiders,
Radio Birdman,
Maleditus Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Make Up,
Camberwell Now,
Pantaleimon,
Patti Smith,
The Victims,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
DJ Style,
The Gladiators,
Rod Modell,
Mad Mike,
The Walker Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Ultra Naté,
The Divine Comedy,
The Doors,
Circle Jerks,
Anakelly,
The Litter,
Jacob Miller,
Scan 7,
Sex Pistols,
Donald Byrd,
Grauzone,
Das Ding,
One Last Wish,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marmalade,
Tim Buckley,
Barbara Tucker,
Matthew Halsall,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eli Mardock,
Fugazi,
Angry Samoans,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
Khruangbin,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.