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 Djibouti and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba 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 Angry Samoans to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
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 Electric Prunes,
Roxy Music,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Smog,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
AZ,
Pantaleimon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cheater Slicks,
Los Fastidios,
Andrew Hill,
The Fire Engines,
The Doors,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The United States of America,
ABBA,
The Mojo Men,
Harry Pussy,
X-101,
Black Bananas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Tremeloes,
The Moody Blues,
the Normal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Con Funk Shun,
The Count Five,
The Fugs,
Tommy Roe,
Byron Stingily,
Jawbox,
Brand Nubian,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Von Mondo,
Monks,
Suburban Knight,
Mr. Review,
La Düsseldorf,
The Zeros,
Sex Pistols,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arcadia,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Colin Newman,
Banda Bassotti,
Vainqueur,
Swans,
Inner City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang Starr,
Dual Sessions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Germs,
Public Enemy,
Mo-Dettes,
Fad Gadget,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.