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 Jordan and from Seoul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the punk 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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
the Soft Cell,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pierre Henry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pussy Galore,
Amazonics,
Rekid,
World's Most,
Minnie Riperton,
The Seeds,
Average White Band,
Carl Craig,
Slave,
The Monks,
Barrington Levy,
Ken Boothe,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Buckinghams,
Procol Harum,
The Smoke,
Sonny Sharrock,
Infiniti,
Camouflage,
Terry Callier,
Black Sheep,
U.S. Maple,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moody Blues,
Brick,
Fat Boys,
Kayak,
Jeru the Damaja,
Susan Cadogan,
The Trojans,
Soft Cell,
Subhumans,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Malaria!,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Smooth,
Anthony Braxton,
the Germs,
Fatback Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Drexciya,
Eric Copeland,
Man Parrish,
Jesper Dahlback,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jawbox,
Dennis Brown,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Angry Samoans,
The Zeros,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.