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 Algeria and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin 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 spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Accadde A,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Michelle Simonal,
Pylon,
Monks,
The Busters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Funky Four + One,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Television,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Pus,
Babytalk,
CMW,
Section 25,
Anthony Braxton,
Newcleus,
Black Moon,
Amon Düül,
Blancmange,
The Selecter,
The Cowsills,
Leonard Cohen,
Intrusion,
Eric Copeland,
Hot Snakes,
UT,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Ultra Naté,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Pagans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dorothy Ashby,
ABBA,
Joey Negro,
Carl Craig,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fugs,
Model 500,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Masters at Work,
Camouflage,
Matthew Bourne,
Joe Finger,
Robert Wyatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.