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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare 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 Big Daddy Kane to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
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,
Outsiders,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Siglo XX,
Duran Duran,
KRS-One,
Lyres,
Albert Ayler,
Sarah Menescal,
Pierre Henry,
Intrusion,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Beau Brummels,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yusef Lateef,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Average White Band,
Lou Christie,
Spandau Ballet,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Görl,
Cal Tjader,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Glambeats Corp.,
Prince Buster,
Graham Central Station,
David McCallum,
The Toasters,
John Foxx,
Television,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Malaria!,
The Litter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Associates,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Monochrome Set,
The Velvet Underground,
R.M.O.,
Procol Harum,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bad Manners,
Wolf Eyes,
Aswad,
Sight & Sound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cameo,
The Gories,
Barry Ungar,
Mars,
Aloha Tigers,
The Happenings,
The Fortunes,
DJ Sneak,
Cymande,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Infiniti,
Idris Muhammad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.