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 Kyrgyzstan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Motorama to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare 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 mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Shoche,
Josef K,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Maleditus Sound,
The Fugs,
the Association,
Slave,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fluxion,
Pantytec,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Prince Buster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Isaac Hayes,
The Martian,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nick Fraelich,
Moss Icon,
Stereo Dub,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suicide,
EPMD,
The Detroit Cobras,
Don Cherry,
Unwound,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Sonics,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Görl,
Charles Mingus,
Dark Day,
The Motions,
Connie Case,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Funkadelic,
The Neon Judgement,
Laurel Aitken,
Albert Ayler,
Soulsonic Force,
Lakeside,
OOIOO,
Alison Limerick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kaleidoscope,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nils Olav,
Maurizio,
Au Pairs,
Eli Mardock,
Skarface,
Freddie Wadling,
Yazoo,
This Heat,
Gerry Rafferty,
a-ha,
Intrusion,
John Foxx,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.