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 Yemen and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Ice-T to the electroclash 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe 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 marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Ten City,
Mandrill,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Crooked Eye,
The Sound,
June of 44,
KRS-One,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Wyatt,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eurythmics,
Blancmange,
The Music Machine,
Unwound,
X-101,
DJ Sneak,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
Toni Rubio,
Shuggie Otis,
Pagans,
Pylon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Public Enemy,
Rod Modell,
In Retrospect,
F. McDonald,
MDC,
Camouflage,
The Searchers,
Adolescents,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tom Boy,
The Dead C,
The Fugs,
Minny Pops,
kango's stein massive,
Pantaleimon,
Circle Jerks,
Ultravox,
Kerrie Biddell,
Moby Grape,
Tomorrow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Porter Ricks,
FM Einheit,
The Index,
Interpol,
UT,
Glenn Branca,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun Ra,
Brass Construction,
Anthony Braxton,
Grauzone,
Piero Umiliani,
Newcleus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Raincoats,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.