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 Armenia and from Madrid.
But I was there.

I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Black Bananas to the electroclash 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.

All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.

I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Echospace, Shoche, Cybotron, Erasure, One Last Wish, Radiopuhelimet, Bill Near, David McCallum, X-Ray Spex, Robert Wyatt, Wings, Strawberry Alarm Clock, The Five Americans, Alison Limerick, Blake Baxter, Sex Pistols, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Pussy Galore, Davy DMX, The Pop Group, Funky Four + One, Letta Mbulu, Traffic Nightmare, Desert Stars, Bobbi Humphrey, The Beau Brummels, The Red Krayola, Jacob Miller, Morten Harket, Howard Jones, Minny Pops, Gian Franco Pienzio, Agent Orange, The Dead C, Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz, Urselle, The Litter, Little Man, Bush Tetras, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Youth Brigade, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, The Toasters, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Moss Icon, The Cramps, Harpers Bizarre, Los Fastidios, Malaria!, Todd Rundgren, Pantytec, Johnny Clarke, Gong, The Durutti Column, The Modern Lovers, Bobby Sherman, These Immortal Souls, Ossler, Gil Scott Heron, Deadbeat, Sexual Harrassment, Lou Reed, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.

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)