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 Benin and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin 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 Scratch Acid to the funk 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator 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 spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
John Holt,
Nirvana,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hoover,
Bang On A Can,
Young Marble Giants,
T.S.O.L.,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eric Dolphy,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brass Construction,
Aaron Thompson,
Gabor Szabo,
Saccharine Trust,
Colin Newman,
Jeff Mills,
Amon Düül II,
Franke,
Chris & Cosey,
Monks,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Royal Trux,
Arthur Verocai,
Tres Demented,
The Gories,
Hardrive,
Visage,
Juan Atkins,
Unwound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
Essential Logic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
These Immortal Souls,
Grauzone,
Roxette,
Ultra Naté,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Moleskins,
Bush Tetras,
Althea and Donna,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
The Divine Comedy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Theoretical Girls,
Duran Duran,
Skriet,
Flamin' Groovies,
Infiniti,
Nas,
Rapeman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sällskapet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.