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 Portugal and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Archie Shepp to the rock 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes 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 harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Quadrant,
Sixth Finger,
Silicon Teens,
Throbbing Gristle,
Suicide,
Pet Shop Boys,
Second Layer,
Erykah Badu,
The Dead C,
Spoonie Gee,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Unwound,
The Human League,
The Mummies,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Symarip,
cv313,
Zero Boys,
Oneida,
Gil Scott Heron,
Colin Newman,
The Techniques,
The Associates,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aswad,
K-Klass,
Circle Jerks,
Lucky Dragons,
Icehouse,
ABBA,
Janne Schatter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Howard Jones,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gladiators,
Jimmy McGriff,
Monolake,
Mo-Dettes,
Faust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Names,
Essential Logic,
OOIOO,
Bush Tetras,
JFA,
Easy Going,
Moebius,
Nick Fraelich,
Cameo,
Hashim,
Slick Rick,
Derrick May,
June Days,
Mark Hollis,
The Buckinghams,
Hoover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.