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 Israel and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 Procol Harum to the rap 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Deepchord,
Black Bananas,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amazonics,
Rosa Yemen,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sight & Sound,
Clear Light,
Maurizio,
The Sound,
The Fall,
Silicon Teens,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fad Gadget,
Jeff Lynne,
Eden Ahbez,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Interpol,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
the Germs,
Warsaw,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Reuben Wilson,
Lower 48,
The Velvet Underground,
Ossler,
Desert Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Flipper,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bush Tetras,
The Fuzztones,
Audionom,
Rapeman,
Tubeway Army,
Banda Bassotti,
Black Pus,
Arcadia,
Robert Wyatt,
Second Layer,
Alton Ellis,
Barbara Tucker,
Bad Manners,
The Trojans,
Au Pairs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Stooges,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Quantec,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.