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 South Africa and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Cowsills to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord 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 linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Eric Copeland,
John Holt,
Hardrive,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Germs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Shuggie Otis,
Yellowson,
Bush Tetras,
John Foxx,
Angry Samoans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ludus,
The Residents,
Althea and Donna,
Lakeside,
Television,
Wolf Eyes,
Malaria!,
Mo-Dettes,
These Immortal Souls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fela Kuti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Shoche,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Stooges,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
David Axelrod,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Beau Brummels,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terry Callier,
Pharoah Sanders,
Letta Mbulu,
Joyce Sims,
Flamin' Groovies,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Doors,
DJ Style,
The Sound,
Mark Hollis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Kinks,
Kerri Chandler,
Clear Light,
Dual Sessions,
Fugazi,
The Detroit Cobras,
a-ha,
The Moleskins,
Jacob Miller,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.