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 Bhutan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Con Funk Shun to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
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 Stooges,
Steve Hackett,
Tom Boy,
Excepter,
The Smoke,
The Star Department,
Smog,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Womack,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Kinks,
Aloha Tigers,
Maleditus Sound,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
Boredoms,
Sarah Menescal,
Circle Jerks,
the Human League,
Swans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Andrew Hill,
Bill Near,
Average White Band,
World's Most,
Quando Quango,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Public Enemy,
Colin Newman,
Black Bananas,
Fugazi,
Yaz,
Black Pus,
Fat Boys,
The Martian,
Intrusion,
Al Stewart,
Pantaleimon,
Wings,
Alison Limerick,
the Sonics,
Bluetip,
Blancmange,
Von Mondo,
The Standells,
Bill Wells,
Warsaw,
The Real Kids,
Main Source,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Scientists,
48th St. Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minutemen,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.