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 Niger and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Happenings to the crunk 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Bang On A Can,
Royal Trux,
Bob Dylan,
Juan Atkins,
The Cramps,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pierre Henry,
Prince Buster,
Cluster,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
D'Angelo,
Ultravox,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Black Sheep,
CMW,
John Coltrane,
Blancmange,
Eli Mardock,
Public Enemy,
The Velvet Underground,
Fugazi,
Pet Shop Boys,
Motorama,
New Age Steppers,
Joyce Sims,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
The Golliwogs,
The Modern Lovers,
Joey Negro,
Essential Logic,
The Trojans,
Second Layer,
Davy DMX,
The Beau Brummels,
Yazoo,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Monks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Matthew Bourne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Aaron Thompson,
B.T. Express,
The Neon Judgement,
Circle Jerks,
Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Crime,
Pagans,
Hoover,
Metal Thangz,
Q and Not U,
Don Cherry,
The Raincoats,
Minnie Riperton,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.