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 Djibouti and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 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 Ponytail to the punk 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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ 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 organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Eve St. Jones,
Ohio Players,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
Gang Gang Dance,
DNA,
Main Source,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kenny Larkin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scientists,
Absolute Body Control,
Kayak,
Camberwell Now,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cameo,
John Lydon,
Rapeman,
Little Man,
The American Breed,
The Doors,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Zapp,
The Fire Engines,
Gang of Four,
Graham Central Station,
The Pop Group,
Jawbox,
The Skatalites,
The Invisible,
Bluetip,
MC5,
Symarip,
Thompson Twins,
Oneida,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Y Pants,
Second Layer,
X-101,
Q65,
The Real Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
Marine Girls,
Monks,
The Techniques,
Metal Thangz,
Model 500,
Essential Logic,
Mission of Burma,
Jacques Brel,
The Young Rascals,
Sex Pistols,
Howard Jones,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pierre Henry,
Accadde A,
Janne Schatter,
Funkadelic,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.