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 Azerbaijan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro 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 spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Technova,
The Trojans,
Robert Görl,
Marc Almond,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Deakin,
Althea and Donna,
The Smiths,
Matthew Halsall,
Zero Boys,
Chrome,
Youth Brigade,
ABC,
The Remains,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
The Move,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Suicide,
The Raincoats,
Sexual Harrassment,
Goldenarms,
Severed Heads,
Bad Manners,
Graham Central Station,
Dead Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sugar Minott,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Porter Ricks,
Yellowson,
The Slackers,
Lucky Dragons,
Warsaw,
The Durutti Column,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Slits,
LL Cool J,
June of 44,
The Pretty Things,
Whodini,
Reagan Youth,
Qualms,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wasted Youth,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
Bluetip,
Joe Finger,
Anthony Braxton,
Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lakeside,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cramps,
David Bowie,
Half Japanese,
The Moody Blues,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.