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 Liechtenstein and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Piero Umiliani to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar 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 snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Henry Cow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blake Baxter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Althea and Donna,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
10cc,
Terrestrial Tones,
Agent Orange,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Radio Birdman,
Essential Logic,
ABBA,
Neu!,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mad Mike,
Tom Boy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rites of Spring,
The New Christs,
The Barracudas,
Marcia Griffiths,
Model 500,
The Martian,
MC5,
The Last Poets,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Dirtbombs,
Al Stewart,
Junior Murvin,
Silicon Teens,
Funkadelic,
Eve St. Jones,
David Axelrod,
The Seeds,
The Pop Group,
Minny Pops,
D'Angelo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultravox,
H. Thieme,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Absolute Body Control,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Move,
Steve Hackett,
Cecil Taylor,
Amon Düül II,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Arab on Radar,
This Heat,
Jandek,
Cameo,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.