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 Tehran.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Crash Course in Science to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet 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 guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Wake,
Eddi Front,
Chrome,
Spandau Ballet,
The Pop Group,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monolake,
The Busters,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gories,
Alton Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Moebius,
Con Funk Shun,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric Dolphy,
Aswad,
Von Mondo,
Eden Ahbez,
Absolute Body Control,
Henry Cow,
Drexciya,
Robert Görl,
the Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
Nas,
Mad Mike,
Idris Muhammad,
Talk Talk,
Procol Harum,
Funkadelic,
Sarah Menescal,
The Slits,
Sunsets and Hearts,
UT,
The Leaves,
Faraquet,
The Evens,
The Sound,
Minnie Riperton,
Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Standells,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ossler,
Mandrill,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Altered Images,
Freddie Wadling,
John Foxx,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Graham Central Station,
Flipper,
Nico,
Moss Icon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.