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 Tajikistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb 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 organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mission of Burma,
H. Thieme,
Lebanon Hanover,
Average White Band,
Severed Heads,
The Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Masters at Work,
Hasil Adkins,
Pantaleimon,
Aaron Thompson,
Chris Corsano,
Country Teasers,
Reuben Wilson,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Victims,
Bob Dylan,
Tomorrow,
Quantec,
La Düsseldorf,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Monks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cecil Taylor,
The Cowsills,
Alice Coltrane,
The Tremeloes,
Pere Ubu,
Buzzcocks,
Black Pus,
Wasted Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Wings,
Moss Icon,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
Eli Mardock,
CMW,
Thee Headcoats,
Index,
MC5,
Q65,
Sällskapet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Crooked Eye,
Pulsallama,
Crash Course in Science,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
Half Japanese,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lightning Bolt,
Rosa Yemen,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lakeside,
Visage,
Harry Pussy,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.