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 Bahamas and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Pantytec to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
E-Dancer,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Gladiators,
B.T. Express,
The Dead C,
The Neon Judgement,
Kayak,
Youth Brigade,
Sixth Finger,
H. Thieme,
Quantec,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ossler,
FM Einheit,
Audionom,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Chris Corsano,
Janne Schatter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Angry Samoans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kerri Chandler,
Camberwell Now,
These Immortal Souls,
Moby Grape,
Popol Vuh,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio,
The Last Poets,
The Divine Comedy,
OOIOO,
The Smoke,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Swell Maps,
The Five Americans,
Neu!,
the Normal,
K-Klass,
Half Japanese,
Panda Bear,
The Mummies,
the Slits,
John Cale,
World's Most,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barry Ungar,
Bill Wells,
Vladislav Delay,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Clear Light,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.