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 Niger and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Aural Exciters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
B.T. Express,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalo Schifrin,
L. Decosne,
Joe Finger,
UT,
The Fire Engines,
Bobby Womack,
The Cure,
Lalann,
Pere Ubu,
Laurel Aitken,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Near,
The Names,
Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
Masters at Work,
Audionom,
Minutemen,
Malaria!,
The Victims,
T.S.O.L.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Grass Roots,
Sällskapet,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Interpol,
Avey Tare,
Royal Trux,
Ten City,
Peter & Gordon,
Altered Images,
Eli Mardock,
Michelle Simonal,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fat Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
Neil Young,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry's Kids,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Osbourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cowsills,
Section 25,
Absolute Body Control,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Clear Light,
Eric B and Rakim,
Easy Going,
The Litter,
Mad Mike,
Hot Snakes,
Livin' Joy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.