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 South Africa and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 OOIOO to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet 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 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Dead Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Cale,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sugar Minott,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mo-Dettes,
Hot Snakes,
Nirvana,
Anakelly,
Todd Terry,
Scott Walker,
Motorama,
Vainqueur,
James White and The Blacks,
Quantec,
D'Angelo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Saints,
The Electric Prunes,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Country Teasers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Neu!,
Das Ding,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Style,
The Doors,
Pantaleimon,
Cal Tjader,
Isaac Hayes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Althea and Donna,
Interpol,
The Cowsills,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Evens,
The Grass Roots,
Wally Richardson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cure,
Radiopuhelimet,
Barclay James Harvest,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crime,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Magma,
Whodini,
Chris & Cosey,
Grey Daturas,
The Stooges,
Gregory Isaacs,
Symarip,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.