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 Belarus and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grass Roots to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar 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 organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Mantronix,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Bar-Kays,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ossler,
La Düsseldorf,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lee Hazlewood,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Alton Ellis,
Swell Maps,
The Pretty Things,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blossom Toes,
Peter and Kerry,
The Happenings,
Cecil Taylor,
Flash Fearless,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Glenn Branca,
Harpers Bizarre,
Echospace,
Matthew Halsall,
the Association,
UT,
Monks,
DJ Sneak,
Prince Buster,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Von Mondo,
Duran Duran,
L. Decosne,
Sugar Minott,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lungfish,
Sister Nancy,
Nik Kershaw,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Foxx,
Moby Grape,
The Electric Prunes,
Ten City,
June of 44,
Don Cherry,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Camouflage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nico,
Amazonics,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.