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 Indonesia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Sound to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
The Toasters,
John Holt,
Underground Resistance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eddi Front,
New York Dolls,
Arthur Verocai,
Porter Ricks,
Tom Boy,
UT,
Spandau Ballet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fat Boys,
Skaos,
The Velvet Underground,
Mars,
Ludus,
This Heat,
Yazoo,
The Index,
Tommy Roe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stiv Bators,
Sun Ra,
Cluster,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jacob Miller,
Donny Hathaway,
Skriet,
Thompson Twins,
Wolf Eyes,
Byron Stingily,
The Knickerbockers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bronski Beat,
Scott Walker,
Chris & Cosey,
The Slackers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Supertramp,
Jeru the Damaja,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quando Quango,
Bauhaus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Outsiders,
Suburban Knight,
The Cramps,
The Last Poets,
Franke,
The Grass Roots,
Amon Düül II,
Groovy Waters,
DJ Sneak,
Bang On A Can,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Surgeon,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.