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 Austria and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blackbyrds to the rap 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ 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 organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Last Poets,
Wings,
Shoche,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Silicon Teens,
Johnny Clarke,
Icehouse,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gang of Four,
The Star Department,
Au Pairs,
Massinfluence,
Piero Umiliani,
Black Moon,
Magma,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
Moby Grape,
The Barracudas,
The Raincoats,
Aural Exciters,
Howard Jones,
Barbara Tucker,
Wally Richardson,
Easy Going,
FM Einheit,
The Remains,
Audionom,
Yusef Lateef,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flipper,
The Fall,
Gang Gang Dance,
Outsiders,
Royal Trux,
Altered Images,
Boz Scaggs,
UT,
Fugazi,
Sun Ra,
The Saints,
Buzzcocks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Boredoms,
Mars,
Eli Mardock,
Moss Icon,
The Victims,
The Monks,
Y Pants,
Jacob Miller,
Accadde A,
Agent Orange,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.