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 Belgium and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ 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 rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Guru Guru,
Junior Murvin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Underground Resistance,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
Davy DMX,
The Smiths,
Nico,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Yaz,
The Residents,
Royal Trux,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marshall Jefferson,
Panda Bear,
Althea and Donna,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Clear Light,
Shuggie Otis,
The Walker Brothers,
The Dirtbombs,
UT,
The Saints,
Mo-Dettes,
The Birthday Party,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Eddi Front,
Eric Dolphy,
Radio Birdman,
Buzzcocks,
Gang Green,
Dead Boys,
In Retrospect,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kerri Chandler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Reuben Wilson,
L. Decosne,
Brick,
John Cale,
Bauhaus,
FM Einheit,
The Gap Band,
Trumans Water,
Con Funk Shun,
Rekid,
Arcadia,
Deepchord,
The Motions,
Dennis Brown,
Livin' Joy,
Archie Shepp,
The Blues Magoos,
Audionom,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.