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 Namibia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Big Daddy Kane to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ 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 clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Supertramp,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bob Dylan,
Roy Ayers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Faraquet,
Kerri Chandler,
Lower 48,
Minny Pops,
Skarface,
H. Thieme,
Judy Mowatt,
Yellowson,
Black Pus,
Brick,
Grey Daturas,
Buzzcocks,
Radio Birdman,
Derrick Morgan,
Marvin Gaye,
Qualms,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
Y Pants,
Black Moon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minutemen,
Suburban Knight,
Patti Smith,
Ohio Players,
Kayak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fela Kuti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Whodini,
Avey Tare,
The Walker Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Lakeside,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Second Layer,
The Slackers,
The Dead C,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tears for Fears,
Nils Olav,
Dawn Penn,
Junior Murvin,
Index,
The Electric Prunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Amazonics,
Todd Terry,
The Slits,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Litter,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.