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 Tanzania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.

I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Tokyo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the punk 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.

All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.

I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.

I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.

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

But have you seen my records?

Electric Prunes, Bootsy Collins, Crash Course in Science, Colin Newman, Pere Ubu, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, Massinfluence, Malaria!, the Association, The Divine Comedy, X-Ray Spex, Jacques Brel, UT, Althea and Donna, Nation of Ulysses, The Gories, Donald Byrd, Whodini, Slave, Suicide, Thee Headcoats, Johnny Clarke, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Rhythim Is Rhythim, The Blues Magoos, Soul II Soul, The Birthday Party, Throbbing Gristle, Banda Bassotti, Von Mondo, Neu!, Aural Exciters, KRS-One, Traffic Nightmare, Ornette Coleman, The Gun Club, Roger Hodgson, 48th St. Collective, Avey Tare, Pylon, The Music Machine, Todd Terry, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, The Sound, Brass Construction, Gabor Szabo, Eric B and Rakim, Interpol, Dorothy Ashby, The Men They Couldn't Hang, Ohio Players, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Maurizio, Audionom, Hoover, Junior Murvin, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Barclay James Harvest, X-101, Absolute Body Control, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.

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)