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 Guatemala and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Buzzcocks,
Little Man,
Barrington Levy,
Royal Trux,
H. Thieme,
The Tremeloes,
Alison Limerick,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bronski Beat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hashim,
Rapeman,
Soul Sonic Force,
Al Stewart,
Warsaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
AZ,
The Litter,
Joe Smooth,
Kaleidoscope,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Faraquet,
Simply Red,
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
Brothers Johnson,
Peter & Gordon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Faust,
The Pop Group,
Black Flag,
Outsiders,
Pylon,
Magma,
Drexciya,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David Axelrod,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tim Buckley,
Black Pus,
Harry Pussy,
Neu!,
The Fall,
Japan,
Rod Modell,
Absolute Body Control,
Yazoo,
The Techniques,
Dennis Brown,
Cecil Taylor,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Lydon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Motorama,
Grandmaster Flash,
Blancmange,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.