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 Tajikistan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Desert Stars to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator 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 a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Average White Band,
Little Man,
Tomorrow,
Visage,
The Raincoats,
The Seeds,
Rakim,
Crash Course in Science,
Susan Cadogan,
Archie Shepp,
Eric Copeland,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jawbox,
Camberwell Now,
The Blues Magoos,
The Remains,
X-101,
Jeff Lynne,
Toni Rubio,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Donny Hathaway,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Blossom Toes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Flipper,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fad Gadget,
John Coltrane,
The Litter,
KRS-One,
Eden Ahbez,
Tom Boy,
Chris Corsano,
The Standells,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dead Boys,
The Trojans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
48th St. Collective,
The Stooges,
The Pretty Things,
The J.B.'s,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kevin Saunderson,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hasil Adkins,
UT,
Liliput,
Prince Buster,
Harry Pussy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Flag,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.