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 Germany and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Ronan to the punk 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Quadrant,
Outsiders,
Sparks,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Intrusion,
Crooked Eye,
Bang On A Can,
The Neon Judgement,
Skriet,
Sex Pistols,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Buckinghams,
Icehouse,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Monks,
The Names,
Gabor Szabo,
Y Pants,
The Fugs,
Scientists,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blancmange,
Mantronix,
Banda Bassotti,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rod Modell,
Black Sheep,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pantytec,
the Bar-Kays,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang of Four,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Beau Brummels,
The Knickerbockers,
Stereo Dub,
Lower 48,
the Fania All-Stars,
Goldenarms,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tears for Fears,
Black Pus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Magma,
Max Romeo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New Order,
Jacques Brel,
Mars,
Josef K,
Slave,
Stockholm Monsters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ponytail,
Thee Headcoats,
Wolf Eyes,
Mr. Review,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.