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 Zambia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Little Man to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
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,
Kevin Saunderson,
Danielle Patucci,
Howard Jones,
Hoover,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Normal,
Barry Ungar,
Monks,
Juan Atkins,
Tres Demented,
Procol Harum,
the Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
Soft Machine,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Metal Thangz,
Schoolly D,
The Invisible,
Basic Channel,
Crooked Eye,
Lindisfarne,
Groovy Waters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pantytec,
These Immortal Souls,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Christie,
Terrestrial Tones,
Buzzcocks,
Byron Stingily,
Leonard Cohen,
DJ Sneak,
The Residents,
Isaac Hayes,
Kenny Larkin,
The Names,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Bourne,
E-Dancer,
Khruangbin,
Lalann,
Eddi Front,
The Red Krayola,
Chrome,
H. Thieme,
Wings,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fire Engines,
Camberwell Now,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Neon Judgement,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
Fluxion,
Japan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Patti Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sandy B,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.