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 Haiti and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantytec to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
AZ,
Avey Tare,
Gang of Four,
The Mummies,
Yellowson,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Last Poets,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crime,
DNA,
Funkadelic,
X-101,
Bush Tetras,
The Durutti Column,
Groovy Waters,
MDC,
Bill Near,
Public Enemy,
Banda Bassotti,
Radiohead,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
T.S.O.L.,
Ice-T,
Ronnie Foster,
Flash Fearless,
Ultra Naté,
Bluetip,
The Sonics,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Soft Machine,
The Victims,
Zero Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Moebius,
Minny Pops,
Alphaville,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics,
Fat Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Alice Coltrane,
Quando Quango,
The Black Dice,
Smog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Motorama,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hardrive,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moss Icon,
Dark Day,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Basic Channel,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.