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 Iceland and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tom Boy,
Oblivians,
Bobbi Humphrey,
T. Rex,
Japan,
Lower 48,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amon Düül,
Black Bananas,
Suburban Knight,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ornette Coleman,
The Modern Lovers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Unrelated Segments,
Sonic Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nik Kershaw,
The Barracudas,
The Gap Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Blancmange,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang of Four,
Rapeman,
Fatback Band,
Scrapy,
Brothers Johnson,
The Associates,
Soft Cell,
Quantec,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Happenings,
Agitation Free,
The Young Rascals,
Cluster,
Buzzcocks,
Ohio Players,
the Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Michelle Simonal,
The American Breed,
The Victims,
LL Cool J,
Crooked Eye,
Inner City,
Agent Orange,
Spoonie Gee,
The Velvet Underground,
Country Teasers,
Black Flag,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.