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 Libya and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron 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 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sandy B,
Sex Pistols,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Zeros,
FM Einheit,
The Gories,
Flipper,
Fugazi,
Mad Mike,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ken Boothe,
Josef K,
Funky Four + One,
Lyres,
Accadde A,
Babytalk,
The Moody Blues,
David McCallum,
Big Daddy Kane,
Unrelated Segments,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bronski Beat,
Connie Case,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tears for Fears,
Reagan Youth,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Delta 5,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Byron Stingily,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cheater Slicks,
The Names,
Letta Mbulu,
Section 25,
Newcleus,
Amazonics,
Barclay James Harvest,
AZ,
Liliput,
Sight & Sound,
Subhumans,
Theoretical Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Pharoah Sanders,
DNA,
Harmonia,
Amon Düül II,
Bad Manners,
The Detroit Cobras,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
World's Most,
Bill Near,
Cymande,
New Age Steppers,
Cameo,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.