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 Austria and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rap 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare 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 sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Ituana,
Yellowson,
Nas,
JFA,
The Monks,
Sight & Sound,
L. Decosne,
Rekid,
Roger Hodgson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
Jerry's Kids,
The Martian,
Electric Prunes,
Minny Pops,
The Fire Engines,
The New Christs,
Crooked Eye,
Ossler,
Mars,
Simply Red,
Gong,
Vainqueur,
Scott Walker,
Crash Course in Science,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Christie,
Babytalk,
Subhumans,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mummies,
Davy DMX,
These Immortal Souls,
The Electric Prunes,
James White and The Blacks,
Radiohead,
Pantaleimon,
Ultravox,
the Germs,
Kaleidoscope,
Kerri Chandler,
Magma,
Porter Ricks,
Das Ding,
Johnny Clarke,
Deepchord,
Ohio Players,
PIL,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aswad,
A Certain Ratio,
Los Fastidios,
The Techniques,
Urselle,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
Joey Negro,
Gang Green,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.