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 Australia and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Amon Düül II to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin 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 arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Dark Day,
The Searchers,
Circle Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Invisible,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vladislav Delay,
F. McDonald,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Connie Case,
Warren Ellis,
the Swans,
Maurizio,
Marc Almond,
Soul II Soul,
Television,
Lakeside,
The Young Rascals,
Popol Vuh,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Simply Red,
Hashim,
the Sonics,
Radiohead,
Scan 7,
PIL,
Eric Copeland,
L. Decosne,
Section 25,
Hardrive,
Deadbeat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Desert Stars,
John Foxx,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Sarah Menescal,
Lou Reed,
Henry Cow,
Roy Ayers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joensuu 1685,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mummies,
Ossler,
10cc,
Animal Collective,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Average White Band,
Oneida,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Electric Prunes,
Reagan Youth,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.