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 Ivory Coast and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe 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 Second Layer to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar 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 mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Man Parrish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
T. Rex,
Marine Girls,
John Holt,
Guru Guru,
Aswad,
Robert Hood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Sheep,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nils Olav,
Excepter,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultra Naté,
Depeche Mode,
Sam Rivers,
Drexciya,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Easy Going,
Byron Stingily,
Quadrant,
Scan 7,
The Techniques,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
Joey Negro,
The Sound,
Quando Quango,
The Standells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bush Tetras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sandy B,
Kerrie Biddell,
Whodini,
Matthew Bourne,
Lucky Dragons,
The Associates,
Neu!,
The Kinks,
The Pretty Things,
Cal Tjader,
Reuben Wilson,
Aloha Tigers,
The Names,
Sound Behaviour,
Television Personalities,
The Angels of Light,
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
DJ Sneak,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Fania All-Stars,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.