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 Azerbaijan and from Halifax.
But I was there.

I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Michelle Simonal to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.

All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '90s.

I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.

I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.

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

But have you seen my records?

Brass Construction, Barrington Levy, The Durutti Column, Carl Craig, Buzzcocks, John Foxx, Model 500, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, The Raincoats, Pussy Galore, Brick, Das Ding, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, the Normal, Rufus Thomas, Stockholm Monsters, The Gun Club, Average White Band, Pantaleimon, Gang Gang Dance, Kerri Chandler, Stetsasonic, Eddi Front, The Fugs, the Soft Cell, Barbara Tucker, Johnny Clarke, The Stooges, Simply Red, Monolake, Harry Pussy, Radiopuhelimet, Lou Reed, Country Teasers, Aaron Thompson, LL Cool J, Popol Vuh, Kayak, Kings Of Tomorrow, Faust, Q65, Pet Shop Boys, Rekid, Camouflage, Surgeon, David Axelrod, Yazoo, Chris Corsano, Kango’s Stein Massive, Lungfish, Underground Resistance, The Golliwogs, Soul II Soul, The Grass Roots, Bluetip, Derrick Morgan, Ultimate Spinach, Flash Fearless, Mary Jane Girls, Pantytec, X-102, Rites of Spring, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.

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)