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 New Zealand and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Make Up to the grunge 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Shoche,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
China Crisis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Blancmange,
The Cramps,
Smog,
Silicon Teens,
Crime,
Alton Ellis,
Boz Scaggs,
Trumans Water,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
Moby Grape,
Negative Approach,
The Blackbyrds,
Josef K,
Erykah Badu,
The Saints,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heaven 17,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Urselle,
Blake Baxter,
The Stooges,
T. Rex,
Dark Day,
Banda Bassotti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fire Engines,
Au Pairs,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
KRS-One,
The Cowsills,
The Sisters of Mercy,
D'Angelo,
The Buckinghams,
The Moody Blues,
Andrew Hill,
The Mojo Men,
the Association,
Joy Division,
Barrington Levy,
Slick Rick,
Wings,
Babytalk,
Con Funk Shun,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dave Gahan,
Country Teasers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Vogues,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hasil Adkins,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.