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 San Marino and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum 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 oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Rekid,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Suicide,
Clear Light,
Oblivians,
Scratch Acid,
The Trojans,
Hoover,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Excepter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Funkadelic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slick Rick,
Harry Pussy,
The Fuzztones,
Dual Sessions,
Eden Ahbez,
Visage,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Little Man,
Ituana,
Y Pants,
Michelle Simonal,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Reed,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lakeside,
Brass Construction,
The Pretty Things,
Soulsonic Force,
Fluxion,
Carl Craig,
Gong,
FM Einheit,
Hasil Adkins,
B.T. Express,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smiths,
Warsaw,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Toasters,
Anthony Braxton,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Quadrant,
The Angels of Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Thee Headcoats,
The Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Minor Threat,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.