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 Turkmenistan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Ralphi Rosario to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Chris Corsano,
John Holt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Offenders,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Misunderstood,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hoover,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Derrick May,
Neu!,
Minny Pops,
Mr. Review,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ronnie Foster,
Ludus,
Kenny Larkin,
Eric Copeland,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Absolute Body Control,
Avey Tare,
The United States of America,
Byron Stingily,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bush Tetras,
Magma,
Kas Product,
Clear Light,
The Last Poets,
Man Eating Sloth,
Section 25,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Mills,
Robert Wyatt,
The Seeds,
The Index,
The Leaves,
LL Cool J,
Ultravox,
Young Marble Giants,
Vladislav Delay,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Donny Hathaway,
Quantec,
Carl Craig,
Jacob Miller,
Tears for Fears,
The Modern Lovers,
Arab on Radar,
The Monochrome Set,
Joy Division,
Little Man,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Anthony Braxton,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.