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 Dominica and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 Johannesburg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grunge 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Cameo,
Black Bananas,
Todd Terry,
Susan Cadogan,
Spandau Ballet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Radio Birdman,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roger Hodgson,
Gabor Szabo,
Flipper,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bad Manners,
Letta Mbulu,
Cluster,
The Happenings,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jandek,
Sister Nancy,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gladiators,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soft Machine,
10cc,
The Wake,
Patti Smith,
The Grass Roots,
Michelle Simonal,
Brick,
Don Cherry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Trumans Water,
Peter and Kerry,
Sound Behaviour,
Janne Schatter,
Nils Olav,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Techniques,
Bob Dylan,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Brand Nubian,
Visage,
Tomorrow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wings,
Junior Murvin,
Quando Quango,
The Index,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Lydon,
Mission of Burma,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.