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 Mali and from Accra.
But I was there.

I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 MDC to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.

All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.

I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.

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

But have you seen my records?

Magma, Leonard Cohen, Parry Music, Au Pairs, The Detroit Cobras, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gang Green, Kings Of Tomorrow, Rufus Thomas, Ralphi Rosario, Half Japanese, Barclay James Harvest, Black Sheep, T.S.O.L., The Fortunes, World's Most, Amon Düül II, Jawbox, The Music Machine, The Real Kids, The Standells, Michelle Simonal, The Neon Judgement, Q and Not U, The Tremeloes, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, The Men They Couldn't Hang, Sam Rivers, Goldenarms, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Magazine, Scion, the Soft Cell, Sunsets and Hearts, John Holt, Robert Wyatt, Al Stewart, Yellowson, Dark Day, The Cowsills, Ituana, ABC, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Chris Corsano, Smog, Organ, Robert Görl, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Isaac Hayes, Don Cherry, The Mojo Men, Dual Sessions, Rekid, Maurizio, London Community Gospel Choir, Symarip, Eden Ahbez, Hoover, Joe Finger, Fluxion, Pet Shop Boys, In Retrospect, Q65, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.

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)