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 Lebanon and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 Unrelated Segments to the grunge 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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Blake Baxter,
Heaven 17,
Spoonie Gee,
Little Man,
The Martian,
Barry Ungar,
Silicon Teens,
F. McDonald,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Searchers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fugs,
The Last Poets,
Angry Samoans,
DNA,
Kaleidoscope,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Index,
Michelle Simonal,
Underground Resistance,
Minor Threat,
Lucky Dragons,
Brick,
The Real Kids,
June Days,
Duran Duran,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Litter,
Matthew Bourne,
Quando Quango,
Wally Richardson,
Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Moby Grape,
Zero Boys,
Infiniti,
Nik Kershaw,
Alton Ellis,
Hot Snakes,
The Selecter,
Bronski Beat,
Isaac Hayes,
Bad Manners,
Davy DMX,
Ken Boothe,
The Young Rascals,
Sun City Girls,
Delta 5,
Pylon,
Model 500,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rites of Spring,
Q65,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
Idris Muhammad,
Scion,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.