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 Romania and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scratch Acid to the jazz 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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
H. Thieme,
Unwound,
The Doors,
Hashim,
L. Decosne,
X-102,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Near,
The Seeds,
Das Ding,
The Happenings,
Siglo XX,
The Gap Band,
Warsaw,
The Five Americans,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Lynne,
Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Zapp,
Icehouse,
Marvin Gaye,
Graham Central Station,
Skriet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marine Girls,
Liliput,
New York Dolls,
Barbara Tucker,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Depeche Mode,
June of 44,
Stiv Bators,
Laurel Aitken,
The United States of America,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wasted Youth,
The Fall,
Simply Red,
The Red Krayola,
Morten Harket,
Toni Rubio,
New Age Steppers,
Qualms,
Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Underground Resistance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
K-Klass,
The Trojans,
The Fugs,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.