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 Macedonia and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a marimba 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 snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Index,
Bill Wells,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reuben Wilson,
The Real Kids,
Qualms,
One Last Wish,
Jeff Mills,
Junior Murvin,
Maurizio,
Donald Byrd,
Angry Samoans,
Half Japanese,
Ossler,
The Seeds,
the Normal,
Symarip,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Deadbeat,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
Tubeway Army,
Glenn Branca,
Circle Jerks,
The Barracudas,
The Electric Prunes,
The Velvet Underground,
Mars,
The Sonics,
Sight & Sound,
Von Mondo,
The Stooges,
Barry Ungar,
Mission of Burma,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Magma,
Absolute Body Control,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Byrd,
Model 500,
Oblivians,
The Toasters,
Hot Snakes,
John Coltrane,
Japan,
Bluetip,
Fatback Band,
Sun City Girls,
Desert Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Derrick May,
UT,
Eve St. Jones,
Tears for Fears,
Los Fastidios,
Sixth Finger,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott Heron,
Saccharine Trust,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.