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 Philippines and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jacques Brel to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
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,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
Amazonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grey Daturas,
Lightning Bolt,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Sherman,
Babytalk,
Adolescents,
Ken Boothe,
Carl Craig,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Residents,
Boz Scaggs,
Lyres,
Nation of Ulysses,
Davy DMX,
Sister Nancy,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mr. Review,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
CMW,
The Move,
cv313,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Ossler,
Mad Mike,
Alice Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
Camouflage,
Country Teasers,
Eli Mardock,
X-101,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ponytail,
Leonard Cohen,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wolf Eyes,
Sun City Girls,
Bad Manners,
The Zeros,
The Smiths,
The Names,
Fugazi,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Spandau Ballet,
The Litter,
Amon Düül,
Michelle Simonal,
Black Bananas,
Rosa Yemen,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultravox,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.