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 Niger and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Basic Channel to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Dead Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Boogie Down Productions,
Arab on Radar,
Angry Samoans,
Average White Band,
Skaos,
The Walker Brothers,
JFA,
Joyce Sims,
Gang Starr,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Urselle,
Mark Hollis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Das Ding,
Groovy Waters,
Livin' Joy,
Swell Maps,
Stockholm Monsters,
The J.B.'s,
The Invisible,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Electric Prunes,
Spoonie Gee,
Nick Fraelich,
Matthew Halsall,
Suburban Knight,
Tears for Fears,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scrapy,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
The Litter,
Pierre Henry,
These Immortal Souls,
Lindisfarne,
The Gun Club,
Warsaw,
Easy Going,
Man Parrish,
Royal Trux,
Peter & Gordon,
U.S. Maple,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
MC5,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lungfish,
Glenn Branca,
48th St. Collective,
Stiv Bators,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harpers Bizarre,
Boz Scaggs,
Kaleidoscope,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Blues Magoos,
Blake Baxter,
The Residents,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.