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 Equatorial Guinea and from Cairo.
But I was there.

I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 Schoolly D to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.

All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.

I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Thompson Twins, A Flock of Seagulls, Joe Smooth, Gil Scott Heron, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, The Litter, Metal Thangz, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Schoolly D, Bobby Byrd, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Junior Murvin, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Chris Corsano, Parry Music, Flamin' Groovies, Fad Gadget, Echospace, DJ Sneak, The Mojo Men, Popol Vuh, K-Klass, Severed Heads, The Dirtbombs, Delta 5, Simply Red, Henry Cow, The Men They Couldn't Hang, Dave Gahan, Jawbox, The Mummies, Matthew Halsall, James Chance & The Contortions, Procol Harum, Hot Snakes, Deakin, Scrapy, Wolf Eyes, Bill Wells, The Birthday Party, Gang Green, LL Cool J, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The Young Rascals, Sunsets and Hearts, Derrick May, Monks, Pulsallama, Reagan Youth, Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam, Lyres, FM Einheit, Basic Channel, Royal Trux, Black Moon, The Dead C, Buzzcocks, The Leaves, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, This Heat, The Blues Magoos, Young Marble Giants, Donny Hathaway, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.

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)