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 Dominica and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Section 25,
The Busters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sugar Minott,
Banda Bassotti,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
Rod Modell,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mission of Burma,
Eli Mardock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Howard Jones,
Bang On A Can,
Outsiders,
Moebius,
New York Dolls,
Flipper,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Alice Coltrane,
Radio Birdman,
Oneida,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quando Quango,
Negative Approach,
Michelle Simonal,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Residents,
Soulsonic Force,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Sonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joyce Sims,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Technova,
Boredoms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cameo,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Max Romeo,
Half Japanese,
Mantronix,
The Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
Throbbing Gristle,
The New Christs,
The Stooges,
Mad Mike,
The Mummies,
Ossler,
Theoretical Girls,
John Cale,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.