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 Mexico and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Coltrane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Hoover,
Flipper,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crash Course in Science,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Style,
the Sonics,
Shuggie Otis,
Eurythmics,
The Fuzztones,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare,
Cymande,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liliput,
Laurel Aitken,
The Modern Lovers,
Soul II Soul,
Gang Starr,
Gichy Dan,
Procol Harum,
Deakin,
Chris Corsano,
the Slits,
K-Klass,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alphaville,
Section 25,
Television Personalities,
Franke,
The Fire Engines,
Swell Maps,
Q65,
Nils Olav,
Drexciya,
Jacob Miller,
Gastr Del Sol,
Suicide,
Von Mondo,
Al Stewart,
Junior Murvin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Trumans Water,
The Raincoats,
The Moleskins,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
The United States of America,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultravox,
Eric Dolphy,
Morten Harket,
Nik Kershaw,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cure,
Cluster,
X-102,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.