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 Korea South and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator 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 theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Kenny Larkin,
The Cowsills,
Y Pants,
Morten Harket,
The Selecter,
The Toasters,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agent Orange,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Isaac Hayes,
Iggy Pop,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
Model 500,
The Five Americans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donald Byrd,
AZ,
Negative Approach,
Fluxion,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Blancmange,
Pagans,
Byron Stingily,
Second Layer,
Franke,
Lightning Bolt,
World's Most,
Stereo Dub,
Glenn Branca,
Rotary Connection,
Anakelly,
The Cure,
Agitation Free,
Essential Logic,
Nico,
Man Eating Sloth,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monochrome Set,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tomorrow,
Desert Stars,
Leonard Cohen,
Harmonia,
Dawn Penn,
Nirvana,
Piero Umiliani,
Brass Construction,
Inner City,
Yellowson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barry Ungar,
Warren Ellis,
The Barracudas,
The Residents,
Sandy B,
John Holt,
Mad Mike,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.