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 Burundi and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tres Demented to the jazz 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Ludus,
Lucky Dragons,
Soft Cell,
Cybotron,
Second Layer,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ten City,
Sällskapet,
The Red Krayola,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siglo XX,
UT,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Hood,
Terry Callier,
Harmonia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Royal Trux,
David McCallum,
Nils Olav,
D'Angelo,
Brick,
Deepchord,
Eden Ahbez,
Eddi Front,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brand Nubian,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pylon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Funkadelic,
Porter Ricks,
Soulsonic Force,
Sugar Minott,
The Real Kids,
Underground Resistance,
Accadde A,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
China Crisis,
Interpol,
MC5,
The Names,
Faust,
The Offenders,
Ronnie Foster,
Lakeside,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marine Girls,
The Grass Roots,
Moss Icon,
Gang Starr,
Sister Nancy,
The Dead C,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Slackers,
Marmalade,
Lungfish,
Henry Cow,
Roger Hodgson,
Quantec,
Roy Ayers,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.