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 Albania and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Dennis Brown to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator 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 güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Ken Boothe,
The Gories,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Carl Craig,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cramps,
Swell Maps,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hashim,
Trumans Water,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pere Ubu,
Iggy Pop,
Janne Schatter,
Eurythmics,
Ossler,
Pantaleimon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Dennis Brown,
The Evens,
The Tremeloes,
Eve St. Jones,
Average White Band,
Blossom Toes,
Au Pairs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Das Ding,
Alton Ellis,
Neu!,
Can,
Saccharine Trust,
Bobby Womack,
Gang of Four,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cybotron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Smooth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Little Man,
The Residents,
Stetsasonic,
The Fall,
Howard Jones,
The Black Dice,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Wake,
Kaleidoscope,
Bluetip,
The Techniques,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Black Bananas,
Yaz,
Black Sheep,
The Standells,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.