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 El Salvador and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Altered Images to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord 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 harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
The Fall,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ronnie Foster,
Babytalk,
Henry Cow,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Mills,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stiv Bators,
Audionom,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Altered Images,
Flash Fearless,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Moon,
JFA,
48th St. Collective,
Kerrie Biddell,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Gladiators,
Banda Bassotti,
Ice-T,
The American Breed,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Minny Pops,
Bill Near,
The Barracudas,
Kurtis Blow,
KRS-One,
Visage,
Rufus Thomas,
Supertramp,
Nick Fraelich,
World's Most,
Josef K,
Bush Tetras,
Neu!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
David Bowie,
Byron Stingily,
Ituana,
Eric B and Rakim,
Barrington Levy,
Lightning Bolt,
the Bar-Kays,
Blake Baxter,
Pylon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Offenders,
Sixth Finger,
The Moleskins,
The Angels of Light,
The Monks,
Sun Ra,
X-Ray Spex,
Aural Exciters,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.