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 Singapore and from Woodstock.
But I was there.

I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 James White and The Blacks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.

All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.

I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Tomorrow, Howard Jones, The Modern Lovers, Tears for Fears, Vainqueur, Reuben Wilson, Rufus Thomas, Gregory Isaacs, the Slits, Radio Birdman, The Skatalites, Alton Ellis, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Babytalk, The Wake, Warsaw, Pantaleimon, Ohio Players, Scott Walker, The Busters, John Coltrane, Judy Mowatt, The Moleskins, Fluxion, Urselle, Groovy Waters, Soulsonic Force, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Eli Mardock, Zapp, Black Bananas, Index, Ralphi Rosario, Gabor Szabo, Josef K, Wings, Big Daddy Kane, Ituana, Liliput, Y Pants, Iggy Pop, David McCallum, Swans, In Retrospect, Soft Machine, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, The Grass Roots, Slave, Deakin, Amon Düül, The Mojo Men, Arcadia, Los Fastidios, Suicide, DNA, One Last Wish, Symarip, Bill Wells, Gang Starr, DJ Style, Television Personalities, the Fania All-Stars, Flamin' Groovies, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.

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)