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 Ecuador and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the 808 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin 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 snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Kerrie Biddell,
Half Japanese,
Mark Hollis,
The Wake,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Dave Clark Five,
Second Layer,
June Days,
Soulsonic Force,
Derrick May,
Basic Channel,
The Black Dice,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sun Ra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Warren Ellis,
Ronnie Foster,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
cv313,
X-101,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Sherman,
Sun City Girls,
Radiohead,
Bobby Womack,
Suicide,
Cameo,
Con Funk Shun,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Angels of Light,
Grey Daturas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dark Day,
Black Bananas,
The Monks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
PIL,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smoke,
Rod Modell,
Roxy Music,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Malaria!,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Blake Baxter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Deepchord,
Rites of Spring,
FM Einheit,
Amazonics,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.