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 Slovakia and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Morten Harket to the techno 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
Banda Bassotti,
The Blues Magoos,
The Birthday Party,
John Holt,
OOIOO,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Sonics,
Rites of Spring,
the Swans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Visage,
The Knickerbockers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Doors,
The Trojans,
The Human League,
Arthur Verocai,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wolf Eyes,
Wings,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Music Machine,
Motorama,
John Coltrane,
Procol Harum,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mission of Burma,
Howard Jones,
David Axelrod,
Guru Guru,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Skatalites,
Half Japanese,
Zero Boys,
Susan Cadogan,
Zapp,
Inner City,
Lalann,
Lou Reed,
Average White Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mad Mike,
Los Fastidios,
the Bar-Kays,
Hot Snakes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brand Nubian,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Busters,
T. Rex,
Nas,
The Zeros,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ten City,
Dorothy Ashby,
Arcadia,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Deadbeat,
Reagan Youth,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.