Infinitely Losing My Edge

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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 Syria and from Mexico City.
But I was there.

I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Junior Murvin to the techno 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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.

All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.

I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.

I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.

I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.

But have you seen my records?

F. McDonald, Gong, Minor Threat, The Blackbyrds, A Flock of Seagulls, Frankie Knuckles, The Last Poets, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, The Moleskins, Eurythmics, Prince Buster, Circle Jerks, Suburban Knight, Throbbing Gristle, the Sonics, The Slits, The Five Americans, Marvin Gaye, Cabaret Voltaire, Beasts of Bourbon, Harry Pussy, Silicon Teens, Kas Product, KRS-One, June Days, The Doobie Brothers, OOIOO, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Crispian St. Peters, the Human League, Nick Fraelich, Moebius, Fifty Foot Hose, the Soft Cell, Glenn Branca, Al Stewart, Babytalk, Derrick May, Supertramp, Desert Stars, Rapeman, Matthew Halsall, PIL, The Selecter, Mad Mike, Joyce Sims, the Normal, Leonard Cohen, A Certain Ratio, Fort Wilson Riot, Thee Headcoats, Funkadelic, The Sound, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Kurtis Blow, Lee Hazlewood, The Cramps, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Shoche, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.

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.

A hack by Matthew Ogle who is very sorry to James Murphy and basically everyone (cheers to Darius and this for the late-night inspiration)