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 Ethiopia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.

I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Milan and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Procol Harum to the techno 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.

All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.

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

I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.

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

But have you seen my records?

The American Breed, Wally Richardson, Sam Rivers, Leonard Cohen, Lindisfarne, Letta Mbulu, Moebius, Massinfluence, The Monks, Yusef Lateef, Interpol, Desert Stars, The Knickerbockers, The Tremeloes, Chris & Cosey, Spoonie Gee, the Bar-Kays, Drexciya, Morten Harket, Simply Red, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, The Misunderstood, Funky Four + One, Half Japanese, Deadbeat, Crooked Eye, The Martian, Rapeman, Magma, D'Angelo, The Trojans, Hasil Adkins, Albert Ayler, Hot Snakes, Amazonics, Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience, Reagan Youth, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Pierre Henry, Main Source, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Schoolly D, Bob Dylan, Jerry Gold Smith, Alison Limerick, Scientists, Jesper Dahlbäck, Ludus, Freddie Wadling, Cabaret Voltaire, Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic, Y Pants, Royal Trux, Eve St. Jones, Television, Roxy Music, Skaos, the Slits, Severed Heads, Fugazi, Ronnie Foster, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.

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)