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 Iceland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sällskapet to the punk 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar 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 marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Trumans Water,
Man Parrish,
Gong,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-101,
New York Dolls,
Sarah Menescal,
Steve Hackett,
The Zeros,
The Leaves,
Stereo Dub,
Fat Boys,
The Standells,
Stiv Bators,
Make Up,
Tropical Tobacco,
La Düsseldorf,
Glambeats Corp.,
Chris & Cosey,
Suicide,
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
EPMD,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soul II Soul,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scan 7,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cal Tjader,
X-102,
Cybotron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Sonics,
Dave Gahan,
The American Breed,
Half Japanese,
David McCallum,
Jawbox,
The Pretty Things,
The Skatalites,
Hasil Adkins,
Porter Ricks,
Nick Fraelich,
Idris Muhammad,
Bronski Beat,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sound Behaviour,
Glenn Branca,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gabor Szabo,
Todd Terry,
Agent Orange,
Animal Collective,
The Selecter,
Franke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mark Hollis,
Dark Day,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.