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 Tajikistan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the organ 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 The Selecter to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Howard Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Roger Hodgson,
Whodini,
Graham Central Station,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Yellowson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Technova,
The Leaves,
Con Funk Shun,
Faust,
Dual Sessions,
Davy DMX,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cecil Taylor,
Roxy Music,
Agent Orange,
Soul II Soul,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Martian,
X-101,
Khruangbin,
Soulsonic Force,
David Axelrod,
Spoonie Gee,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Laurel Aitken,
Pere Ubu,
Yazoo,
The Gladiators,
Pantaleimon,
Mandrill,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oblivians,
kango's stein massive,
X-Ray Spex,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Big Daddy Kane,
Von Mondo,
Scrapy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gun Club,
Schoolly D,
Mad Mike,
Television Personalities,
Faraquet,
R.M.O.,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tres Demented,
Wings,
Magma,
Sun City Girls,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Black Dice,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Pus,
Boz Scaggs,
Blancmange,
Quantec,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.