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 Botswana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Slave to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum 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 marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Television,
Max Romeo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang Green,
Jandek,
Sällskapet,
Porter Ricks,
the Soft Cell,
Graham Central Station,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lucky Dragons,
Cecil Taylor,
Blancmange,
The Sonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Durutti Column,
Ludus,
Ronan,
The Monks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Q and Not U,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Zero Boys,
the Human League,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wolf Eyes,
Sex Pistols,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Connie Case,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jacob Miller,
Derrick Morgan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Davy DMX,
Television Personalities,
Bang On A Can,
PIL,
Brick,
Yellowson,
The Index,
Niagra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Moody Blues,
Bob Dylan,
Iggy Pop,
Slick Rick,
Roxette,
Kaleidoscope,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alphaville,
JFA,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.