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 Mozambique and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 rhodes 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the punk 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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet 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 clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Chris Corsano,
Ten City,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rakim,
The Durutti Column,
The Shadows of Knight,
Anthony Braxton,
Joe Finger,
Parry Music,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Fania All-Stars,
Can,
Morten Harket,
Gang Green,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lucky Dragons,
Mo-Dettes,
Rod Modell,
Amazonics,
Newcleus,
Sällskapet,
The Monks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wings,
Sugar Minott,
Circle Jerks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marmalade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Trumans Water,
Godley & Creme,
Joyce Sims,
DNA,
Slick Rick,
Supertramp,
Alison Limerick,
Tom Boy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Teasers,
The Fugs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crispian St. Peters,
Reuben Wilson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ponytail,
Thee Headcoats,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gong,
PIL,
Blake Baxter,
Outsiders,
Dennis Brown,
Simply Red,
Eve St. Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Count Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.