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 Norway and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
the Slits,
Accadde A,
New Age Steppers,
Masters at Work,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Swans,
Black Sheep,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nirvana,
Theoretical Girls,
Marmalade,
Minutemen,
Bob Dylan,
Pantytec,
Slick Rick,
Reuben Wilson,
Qualms,
EPMD,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Yazoo,
Pylon,
The Martian,
Subhumans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ten City,
LL Cool J,
DJ Style,
Hashim,
Tubeway Army,
Flash Fearless,
Agitation Free,
The Smiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Soft Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Slits,
Fear,
Soft Cell,
Absolute Body Control,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
Skaos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Moebius,
Visage,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Magazine,
Toni Rubio,
Slave,
KRS-One,
The Red Krayola,
Throbbing Gristle,
Josef K,
June of 44,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.