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 Malta and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Trojans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord 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 harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Mission of Burma,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Leaves,
Outsiders,
Ituana,
Ultimate Spinach,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gabor Szabo,
Dave Gahan,
Flipper,
ABC,
Hasil Adkins,
Kurtis Blow,
The Red Krayola,
Tim Buckley,
Y Pants,
The New Christs,
The Raincoats,
Quando Quango,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fugs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Electric Prunes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Symarip,
Chris & Cosey,
Glambeats Corp.,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
Spandau Ballet,
Monolake,
Moby Grape,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nik Kershaw,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Count Five,
Boredoms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Carl Craig,
Barrington Levy,
Aswad,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brothers Johnson,
Reagan Youth,
The Dead C,
Make Up,
CMW,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slits,
Davy DMX,
Depeche Mode,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.