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 Costa Rica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Stetsasonic to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba 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 arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Blossom Toes,
The Motions,
Man Parrish,
Black Moon,
John Holt,
Scott Walker,
The Monks,
Jeff Mills,
Howard Jones,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
Nils Olav,
Wings,
Accadde A,
Albert Ayler,
Black Pus,
Joyce Sims,
T. Rex,
H. Thieme,
Ronan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Aaron Thompson,
Franke,
Cybotron,
Saccharine Trust,
Erasure,
Pierre Henry,
Chris & Cosey,
Con Funk Shun,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bronski Beat,
DJ Sneak,
Janne Schatter,
Tommy Roe,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Warren Ellis,
Crooked Eye,
Drexciya,
the Germs,
The Cramps,
Glenn Branca,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tom Boy,
Mr. Review,
Technova,
Mad Mike,
Freddie Wadling,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Kinks,
Chrome,
The Evens,
the Human League,
Motorama,
Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Newcleus,
The Smoke,
The Fuzztones,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.