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 Saudi Arabia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the guitar 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 Blossom Toes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Circle Jerks,
The Techniques,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Suburban Knight,
Mark Hollis,
Ponytail,
Glambeats Corp.,
Amon Düül II,
Khruangbin,
Sonic Youth,
The Doors,
Jeff Lynne,
T. Rex,
Fat Boys,
Fad Gadget,
Monolake,
David Bowie,
Jandek,
Essential Logic,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Seeds,
Mr. Review,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Yellowson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brick,
the Normal,
Banda Bassotti,
Rod Modell,
The Saints,
Cal Tjader,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Evens,
the Slits,
The Index,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Deepchord,
The Fortunes,
Cybotron,
Kenny Larkin,
MDC,
LL Cool J,
The Grass Roots,
Severed Heads,
Grey Daturas,
The Moody Blues,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Blossom Toes,
Dead Boys,
Lou Christie,
KRS-One,
Funky Four + One,
X-Ray Spex,
Big Daddy Kane,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.