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 Greece and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.

I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the punk 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.

All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.

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

I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.

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

But have you seen my records?

The Music Machine, Magazine, Selector Dub Narcotic, Bronski Beat, X-101, Nirvana, Sunsets and Hearts, Skriet, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, The United States of America, T. Rex, The Evens, Groovy Waters, Fad Gadget, Bad Manners, Livin' Joy, Heaven 17, Simply Red, T.S.O.L., Reuben Wilson, Duran Duran, The Slits, Godley & Creme, Harpers Bizarre, Nils Olav, Smog, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kaleidoscope, The Victims, Stiv Bators, The Star Department, The Leaves, Bobby Hutcherson, Toni Rubio, DJ Style, Sugar Minott, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Rekid, Public Enemy, Joy Division, The Zeros, The Barracudas, Mars, X-Ray Spex, David McCallum, Black Bananas, Kayak, Bobby Womack, Leonard Cohen, Bush Tetras, Yazoo, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Andrew Hill, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, The Names, World's Most, Electric Prunes, The New Christs, Charles Mingus, Popol Vuh, Gang Green, The Gladiators, Country Teasers, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.

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)