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 Seychelles and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 DNA to the punk 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet 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 an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
the Swans,
The Gladiators,
June of 44,
Jerry's Kids,
a-ha,
Colin Newman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Searchers,
Animal Collective,
Siglo XX,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Christie,
The Fugs,
Monks,
Bill Near,
Tears for Fears,
Steve Hackett,
Slave,
Morten Harket,
AZ,
Agent Orange,
48th St. Collective,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Porter Ricks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Graham Central Station,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
Kayak,
Franke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
ABBA,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Country Teasers,
L. Decosne,
Robert Görl,
Maurizio,
James White and The Blacks,
the Bar-Kays,
Bauhaus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Iggy Pop,
The United States of America,
R.M.O.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bang On A Can,
Ossler,
Big Daddy Kane,
La Düsseldorf,
Erasure,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.