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 Malawi and from Shanghai.
But I was there.

I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Terrestrial Tones to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.

All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.

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

I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.

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

But have you seen my records?

Freddie Wadling, Half Japanese, The Dead C, The Saints, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, a-ha, The Velvet Underground, The Monks, Icehouse, Johnny Clarke, the Germs, F. McDonald, The Residents, Ultimate Spinach, Thompson Twins, The Doobie Brothers, Ponytail, Gregory Isaacs, Marcia Griffiths, The Fire Engines, Das Ding, Funky Four + One, Kerrie Biddell, Larry & the Blue Notes, Lou Christie, Glambeats Corp., Curtis Mayfield, The Blackbyrds, The Blues Magoos, Donald Byrd, Don Cherry, Unrelated Segments, Alton Ellis, Ultramagnetic MC's, The Victims, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Anthony Braxton, Fugazi, Hardrive, Lyres, Nils Olav, Chris & Cosey, Sound Behaviour, Simply Red, Scott Walker, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Scratch Acid, Khruangbin, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Echospace, Peter & Gordon, Sun Ra, Zapp, Stetsasonic, Be Bop Deluxe, James White and The Blacks, Dark Day, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Godley & Creme, Oneida, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.

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)