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 Mongolia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and an oboe 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 clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Archie Shepp,
The Mummies,
Wasted Youth,
Das Ding,
Radiohead,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig,
Malaria!,
Fugazi,
The Dead C,
James White and The Blacks,
Depeche Mode,
Deadbeat,
Parry Music,
Suicide,
Harry Pussy,
FM Einheit,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scan 7,
Dead Boys,
Mantronix,
Nas,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Busters,
The Moleskins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
a-ha,
D'Angelo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Average White Band,
Simply Red,
Icehouse,
Electric Prunes,
Crime,
Ponytail,
Oneida,
Alphaville,
Silicon Teens,
Minnie Riperton,
Pantytec,
The Barracudas,
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scratch Acid,
The Birthday Party,
Eric Dolphy,
Roy Ayers,
The Cramps,
Boredoms,
Mr. Review,
Tim Buckley,
Amon Düül II,
Traffic Nightmare,
June Days,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sonic Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Monks,
Masters at Work,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.