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 South Africa and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Man Eating Sloth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron 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 synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Cameo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
H. Thieme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Susan Cadogan,
The Sonics,
The Offenders,
The Slits,
Pole,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hardrive,
Gong,
The Dirtbombs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Infiniti,
Sight & Sound,
Interpol,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Real Kids,
The Selecter,
Marc Almond,
Eden Ahbez,
Trumans Water,
The Gun Club,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fuzztones,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Moleskins,
Ten City,
Rakim,
Jimmy McGriff,
James White and The Blacks,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-102,
Parry Music,
48th St. Collective,
John Holt,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Buzzcocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scratch Acid,
John Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Flag,
Michelle Simonal,
Thompson Twins,
The Sound,
Ossler,
Yusef Lateef,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
MDC,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.