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 Cuba and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Toasters to the electroclash 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a chamberlin 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 oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Pet Shop Boys,
Moebius,
Nico,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rekid,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ludus,
Marc Almond,
Juan Atkins,
New York Dolls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
This Heat,
Skarface,
Brass Construction,
The New Christs,
Sister Nancy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Quantec,
Nik Kershaw,
Fugazi,
The Shadows of Knight,
Hardrive,
DJ Sneak,
K-Klass,
Ponytail,
Crime,
Reuben Wilson,
John Lydon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Matthew Bourne,
Interpol,
Von Mondo,
Skriet,
Q65,
Public Enemy,
Robert Wyatt,
Yaz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amon Düül II,
Drexciya,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
the Germs,
Lightning Bolt,
Jawbox,
Unwound,
The Selecter,
Gichy Dan,
Soft Machine,
the Association,
The Last Poets,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.