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 Croatia and from London.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Invisible. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
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,
Make Up,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Litter,
MDC,
Lee Hazlewood,
Circle Jerks,
Little Man,
Camouflage,
Robert Hood,
Faraquet,
Boredoms,
Eli Mardock,
The Knickerbockers,
Can,
Icehouse,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Symarip,
Harry Pussy,
T. Rex,
D'Angelo,
Rakim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Durutti Column,
Pole,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kerri Chandler,
Quando Quango,
Crispy Ambulance,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
Eden Ahbez,
Anthony Braxton,
Terry Callier,
Traffic Nightmare,
Qualms,
Derrick Morgan,
Tim Buckley,
Skaos,
Michelle Simonal,
The Electric Prunes,
Swell Maps,
Alice Coltrane,
Khruangbin,
John Holt,
The Monochrome Set,
Index,
Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
Al Stewart,
Davy DMX,
the Swans,
Isaac Hayes,
The Gun Club,
Archie Shepp,
Jandek,
Popol Vuh,
Hasil Adkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Count Five,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.