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 Rwanda and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ohio Players to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
The Tremeloes,
Arab on Radar,
Bang On A Can,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Sonics,
Suburban Knight,
Lightning Bolt,
Y Pants,
The United States of America,
U.S. Maple,
This Heat,
DNA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Popol Vuh,
UT,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Pretty Things,
Subhumans,
Freddie Wadling,
Severed Heads,
Clear Light,
Second Layer,
Cymande,
Eden Ahbez,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Offenders,
Sugar Minott,
Buzzcocks,
Stetsasonic,
Royal Trux,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lou Reed,
Black Pus,
Barbara Tucker,
Visage,
The Last Poets,
The Fire Engines,
The Residents,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-Ray Spex,
Brand Nubian,
The Monks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dual Sessions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chris & Cosey,
Althea and Donna,
Ludus,
Monks,
Glenn Branca,
Vladislav Delay,
Wasted Youth,
Television,
Crash Course in Science,
Jeff Mills,
Tears for Fears,
Peter and Kerry,
Joe Finger,
Al Stewart,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Tommy Roe,
Barrington Levy,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.