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 Tajikistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.

I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Milan and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Intrusion to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

The Cosmic Jokers, Stiv Bators, The Beau Brummels, The Cure, Oblivians, Colin Newman, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, U.S. Maple, Joey Negro, Gerry Rafferty, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, The Seeds, The Fortunes, Dawn Penn, Public Image Ltd., Mandrill, Ornette Coleman, Q and Not U, Robert Wyatt, Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic, The Associates, Henry Cow, The Black Dice, The Chocolate Watch Band, Nik Kershaw, Goldenarms, Quando Quango, Lyres, The Evens, London Community Gospel Choir, JFA, MC5, The Last Poets, The Dave Clark Five, Trumans Water, Sun Ra, Quadrant, Tubeway Army, Nico, Bill Wells, Bang on a Can All-Stars, DNA, The Angels of Light, Audionom, Tommy Roe, Juan Atkins, Freddie Wadling, Porter Ricks, This Heat, R.M.O., Electric Prunes, Al Stewart, Mark Hollis, The Litter, Gang Starr, Flipper, The Residents, Mad Mike, Pharoah Sanders, UT, Harpers Bizarre, Brothers Johnson, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, The Tremeloes, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.

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)