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 Mauritania and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the funk 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.

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

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Echo & the Bunnymen, Sexual Harrassment, B.T. Express, Kango’s Stein Massive, Todd Terry, Organ, Los Fastidios, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Lonnie Liston Smith, Bootsy Collins, The Durutti Column, Skaos, Television Personalities, Pantaleimon, Aural Exciters, Bill Wells, Grey Daturas, The Men They Couldn't Hang, Hardrive, Jeff Lynne, Gil Scott Heron, Patti Smith, Beasts of Bourbon, Scan 7, Buzzcocks, The Moleskins, Eric Dolphy, Lee Hazlewood, Niagra, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Susan Cadogan, Girls At Our Best!, Ossler, Junior Murvin, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, The Black Dice, The Leaves, Magma, Eden Ahbez, Hashim, The Fuzztones, The Cowsills, Silicon Teens, Q65, Bush Tetras, The Fortunes, Aswad, Alphaville, Gong, Animal Collective, Electric Light Orchestra, The Buckinghams, Lou Reed & Metallica, The Doobie Brothers, The Misunderstood, Selector Dub Narcotic, Quantec, Gang Gang Dance, The Sisters of Mercy, The Doors, Excepter, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.

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)