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 Venezuela and from Tokyo.
But I was there.

I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ultra Naté to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.

All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.

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

I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.

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

But have you seen my records?

T.S.O.L., Crispian St. Peters, Graham Central Station, David McCallum, Lou Reed & John Cale, Archie Shepp, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Ossler, The Human League, Absolute Body Control, The Raincoats, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Mark Hollis, The Moleskins, Dual Sessions, The Residents, Fat Boys, Sonic Youth, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Roxy Music, Brothers Johnson, Kas Product, The Star Department, New York Dolls, Malaria!, Lalo Schifrin, Heaven 17, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, The Zeros, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Unwound, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Soft Cell, Ultravox, Silicon Teens, The Invisible, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Hot Snakes, Rapeman, Duran Duran, Groovy Waters, The Birthday Party, Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Alphaville, FM Einheit, Procol Harum, Simply Red, Eric Dolphy, Mary Jane Girls, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Tubeway Army, The Tremeloes, Lower 48, Jerry Gold Smith, Anthony Braxton, Cymande, Jimmy McGriff, Bobby Byrd, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.

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)