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 Denmark and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Erykah Badu to the rap 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Dead Boys,
Quadrant,
Jacob Miller,
B.T. Express,
The Star Department,
Swans,
Prince Buster,
Donald Byrd,
The American Breed,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Flesh Eaters,
Groovy Waters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter & Gordon,
Joy Division,
Eddi Front,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Victims,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joe Smooth,
Ice-T,
T.S.O.L.,
A Certain Ratio,
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
Anakelly,
Sex Pistols,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tim Buckley,
Leonard Cohen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lungfish,
Bobby Womack,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cal Tjader,
Girls At Our Best!,
Quantec,
Frankie Knuckles,
T. Rex,
June of 44,
The Associates,
The Smiths,
Pole,
Stetsasonic,
Schoolly D,
The Trojans,
The Standells,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Skriet,
Gichy Dan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bang On A Can,
Section 25,
Piero Umiliani,
The Zeros,
Ken Boothe,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.