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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 Bauhaus to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Cluster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ituana,
The Selecter,
Rakim,
B.T. Express,
L. Decosne,
La Düsseldorf,
The United States of America,
Jacques Brel,
Theoretical Girls,
Accadde A,
Eurythmics,
The Human League,
Scion,
The Toasters,
Pantaleimon,
The Remains,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Electric Prunes,
Siglo XX,
Sällskapet,
AZ,
Amon Düül,
In Retrospect,
Bill Wells,
Sugar Minott,
The Saints,
E-Dancer,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Don Cherry,
Kenny Larkin,
Jeff Lynne,
Lalann,
Graham Central Station,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dark Day,
Neu!,
Barrington Levy,
Talk Talk,
Scan 7,
Sixth Finger,
Idris Muhammad,
The Slackers,
Silicon Teens,
Mo-Dettes,
Flipper,
Infiniti,
Youth Brigade,
The J.B.'s,
Robert Hood,
The Monochrome Set,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
These Immortal Souls,
Loose Ends,
Alton Ellis,
Nico,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.