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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Outsiders,
X-Ray Spex,
Pantytec,
A Certain Ratio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wire,
The American Breed,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Buckinghams,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smiths,
Lou Christie,
Essential Logic,
Skaos,
Sugar Minott,
ABBA,
LL Cool J,
Matthew Bourne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Modern Lovers,
Brand Nubian,
The Gun Club,
Hasil Adkins,
The Doors,
The Grass Roots,
Sixth Finger,
Fela Kuti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hashim,
The Moleskins,
Yazoo,
T.S.O.L.,
Fat Boys,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
China Crisis,
David Bowie,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Warren Ellis,
Radio Birdman,
Public Enemy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minor Threat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Index,
L. Decosne,
In Retrospect,
Colin Newman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Alarm Clocks,
Little Man,
Crooked Eye,
Harpers Bizarre,
Au Pairs,
The Durutti Column,
The Trojans,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.