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 Bulgaria and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Harmonia to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 an oboe and a harpsichord 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 güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco,
Q and Not U,
L. Decosne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wally Richardson,
X-Ray Spex,
Camouflage,
Aloha Tigers,
John Foxx,
Blossom Toes,
Bluetip,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dual Sessions,
Morten Harket,
New Order,
Make Up,
Rosa Yemen,
Max Romeo,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lalann,
John Holt,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fugs,
June of 44,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül II,
Chris & Cosey,
Tom Boy,
a-ha,
Easy Going,
Von Mondo,
Hardrive,
The Trojans,
Marine Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Outsiders,
Liliput,
These Immortal Souls,
Bang On A Can,
Kerrie Biddell,
James White and The Blacks,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gladiators,
Excepter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pagans,
Deakin,
Yellowson,
Kerri Chandler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ronnie Foster,
Rapeman,
Joe Finger,
Moss Icon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cybotron,
Moby Grape,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.