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 Malaysia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Niagra to the punk 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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
The Mummies,
Outsiders,
Japan,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Letta Mbulu,
Loose Ends,
Pole,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Motorama,
Stiv Bators,
Make Up,
the Normal,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Minnie Riperton,
The Mojo Men,
The American Breed,
June of 44,
Spandau Ballet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Cale,
Brothers Johnson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Remains,
the Germs,
B.T. Express,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soft Machine,
Joy Division,
Fifty Foot Hose,
X-102,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rekid,
Smog,
Toni Rubio,
Anthony Braxton,
Patti Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultravox,
The Smoke,
The Raincoats,
China Crisis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
The Sonics,
Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Mantronix,
Brass Construction,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roxy Music,
Sam Rivers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Dead C,
Quantec,
Ponytail,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.