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 Montenegro and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cal Tjader to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Audionom record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Max Romeo,
The New Christs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dennis Brown,
Fatback Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Pantaleimon,
Ronnie Foster,
Television,
Pylon,
Ludus,
The Red Krayola,
The Offenders,
Khruangbin,
Gil Scott Heron,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Drexciya,
The Blues Magoos,
the Germs,
Fela Kuti,
Shoche,
Girls At Our Best!,
A Certain Ratio,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amon Düül,
Nirvana,
CMW,
Y Pants,
Don Cherry,
Derrick Morgan,
Alton Ellis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radio Birdman,
Nik Kershaw,
Zero Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers,
T. Rex,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Womack,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slackers,
Bang On A Can,
Easy Going,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Thompson Twins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brass Construction,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Josef K,
Malaria!,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Quando Quango,
Procol Harum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Porter Ricks,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.