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 Samoa and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Hardrive to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
Faust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kurtis Blow,
Joyce Sims,
The Raincoats,
The Monochrome Set,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rakim,
The Blackbyrds,
Das Ding,
The Searchers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Janne Schatter,
Camberwell Now,
Archie Shepp,
The Move,
The Doobie Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Buzzcocks,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
The Slackers,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Delta 5,
Alphaville,
Boredoms,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Names,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Carl Craig,
Junior Murvin,
The Cure,
Gabor Szabo,
Don Cherry,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roxette,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lakeside,
Ossler,
X-101,
Amazonics,
Wings,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang On A Can,
The Music Machine,
Rapeman,
Yusef Lateef,
T.S.O.L.,
Crooked Eye,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Remains,
Idris Muhammad,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tears for Fears,
FM Einheit,
LL Cool J,
The Wake,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.