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 Mauritius and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
The Buckinghams,
Fear,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-Ray Spex,
Mo-Dettes,
Ossler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roxette,
Camouflage,
Laurel Aitken,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Con Funk Shun,
Moss Icon,
Jacques Brel,
The Happenings,
Ronnie Foster,
L. Decosne,
Malaria!,
Mad Mike,
The Knickerbockers,
Moby Grape,
The Moleskins,
Mr. Review,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Whodini,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Leaves,
Bang On A Can,
The Gun Club,
Neu!,
The Moody Blues,
Sexual Harrassment,
Thee Headcoats,
Pylon,
Intrusion,
Joey Negro,
Hardrive,
Jacob Miller,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
UT,
Freddie Wadling,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
10cc,
Don Cherry,
Guru Guru,
Los Fastidios,
Mary Jane Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Standells,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy Collins,
Kayak,
The Sonics,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.