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 Poland and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Stereo Dub to the rap 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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,
Jacques Brel,
Robert Görl,
Thee Headcoats,
Panda Bear,
Franke,
Hoover,
Circle Jerks,
Cal Tjader,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Talk Talk,
Donny Hathaway,
Flipper,
The Dirtbombs,
Todd Rundgren,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Minny Pops,
Negative Approach,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers,
Scion,
Surgeon,
Kool Moe Dee,
Spoonie Gee,
Gong,
China Crisis,
Television Personalities,
The Durutti Column,
World's Most,
Khruangbin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moebius,
Hot Snakes,
X-Ray Spex,
Zapp,
Bang On A Can,
Don Cherry,
The Smoke,
Howard Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
The Birthday Party,
Interpol,
Tres Demented,
Junior Murvin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Prunes,
Subhumans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Wire,
DJ Sneak,
Stetsasonic,
Average White Band,
New York Dolls,
Godley & Creme,
The Smiths,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.