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 Croatia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a rhodes 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 mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deadbeat,
The Saints,
Rekid,
Das Ding,
Grey Daturas,
The Music Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pussy Galore,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Angry Samoans,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Sister Nancy,
Ossler,
Electric Prunes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Joensuu 1685,
Barclay James Harvest,
Stiv Bators,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Cymande,
Barry Ungar,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joy Division,
Ronnie Foster,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Remains,
The Techniques,
Moebius,
a-ha,
Wings,
Mandrill,
Black Bananas,
Hasil Adkins,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bootsy Collins,
Arab on Radar,
The Selecter,
D'Angelo,
Ken Boothe,
Mantronix,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
R.M.O.,
Flash Fearless,
Aaron Thompson,
The Litter,
Groovy Waters,
Alton Ellis,
Dennis Brown,
Unwound,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.