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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Nick Fraelich to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
R.M.O.,
Gang Green,
The Misunderstood,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxy Music,
Procol Harum,
Heaven 17,
Lower 48,
the Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Khruangbin,
Underground Resistance,
Hardrive,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amazonics,
Hoover,
Second Layer,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Blues Magoos,
The Star Department,
Deepchord,
Popol Vuh,
Brick,
Siglo XX,
Colin Newman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Electric Prunes,
Arab on Radar,
David Axelrod,
China Crisis,
the Slits,
The Skatalites,
Arcadia,
Lakeside,
Gang Starr,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
Depeche Mode,
Idris Muhammad,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Techniques,
The Smiths,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rapeman,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
Darondo,
8 Eyed Spy,
MC5,
Supertramp,
The Human League,
The Neon Judgement,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.