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 Argentina and from Paris.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Anthony Braxton to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Tres Demented,
The Blackbyrds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Q65,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New Age Steppers,
The Kinks,
Yusef Lateef,
The Pretty Things,
The Raincoats,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Buzzcocks,
Quadrant,
Public Enemy,
Iggy Pop,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Lynne,
Mr. Review,
ABBA,
Television Personalities,
Infiniti,
Banda Bassotti,
Rites of Spring,
Howard Jones,
Matthew Bourne,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
Yaz,
Gang Starr,
The Associates,
Girls At Our Best!,
Al Stewart,
Pussy Galore,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Anakelly,
Popol Vuh,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Interpol,
Soft Cell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soul II Soul,
Fear,
Marmalade,
Roxette,
Mo-Dettes,
Grey Daturas,
DJ Style,
Godley & Creme,
The Music Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Colin Newman,
Bronski Beat,
The Saints,
Q and Not U,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.