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 Burundi and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Mantronix to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron 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 mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Anakelly,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
La Düsseldorf,
The Remains,
The Fortunes,
Banda Bassotti,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wally Richardson,
The Black Dice,
The Count Five,
Juan Atkins,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
The Angels of Light,
Smog,
Crooked Eye,
The Grass Roots,
Sun City Girls,
Marine Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Can,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Infiniti,
Minor Threat,
June of 44,
Todd Terry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The New Christs,
Drexciya,
Duran Duran,
Pet Shop Boys,
David McCallum,
Whodini,
Man Eating Sloth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Cale,
The Walker Brothers,
The Pretty Things,
Arab on Radar,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Public Enemy,
kango's stein massive,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scion,
T. Rex,
Angry Samoans,
D'Angelo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Red Krayola,
The Smiths,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Second Layer,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.