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 Oman and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Camouflage to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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,
Smog,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Walker Brothers,
The Grass Roots,
Circle Jerks,
The Kinks,
Rites of Spring,
Interpol,
R.M.O.,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Sonics,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crime,
DJ Style,
Section 25,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Goldenarms,
The Techniques,
Liliput,
Lower 48,
The Gories,
The Martian,
The Move,
The Saints,
The Moody Blues,
Erykah Badu,
Bob Dylan,
Make Up,
Joensuu 1685,
Sandy B,
Boz Scaggs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jacques Brel,
the Normal,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Osbourne,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Durutti Column,
Unwound,
Davy DMX,
The Dirtbombs,
Mars,
David Bowie,
Bush Tetras,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ituana,
The Velvet Underground,
B.T. Express,
Ultimate Spinach,
Terry Callier,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Niagra,
Bobby Womack,
The Vogues,
Faust,
Joe Finger,
Warsaw,
John Foxx,
The Divine Comedy,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.