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 Nepal and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a sitar 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 guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Pretty Things,
Funkadelic,
Animal Collective,
Colin Newman,
Pantaleimon,
The Golliwogs,
Max Romeo,
Black Flag,
Kerri Chandler,
Maurizio,
the Soft Cell,
Andrew Hill,
The Grass Roots,
Man Eating Sloth,
Warsaw,
The Happenings,
the Normal,
John Cale,
Organ,
Johnny Osbourne,
Henry Cow,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry's Kids,
Urselle,
Freddie Wadling,
Dark Day,
Lucky Dragons,
Marvin Gaye,
Harry Pussy,
The Real Kids,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
X-101,
The Fortunes,
Yazoo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Flash Fearless,
Tim Buckley,
New York Dolls,
Brass Construction,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pet Shop Boys,
Model 500,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mad Mike,
Gong,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Michelle Simonal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
Junior Murvin,
the Germs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.