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 Malaysia and from Delhi.
But I was there.

I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ice-T to the grime 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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.

All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.

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

I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.

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

But have you seen my records?

The Gun Club, Intrusion, Nas, Country Joe & The Fish, Terry Callier, Motorama, H. Thieme, The Black Dice, Kayak, The Stooges, Ken Boothe, KRS-One, Connie Case, Ultravox, Thompson Twins, Bobby Sherman, Iggy Pop, Kevin Saunderson, Deepchord, Sight & Sound, The Gap Band, Hardrive, Moby Grape, Don Cherry, The Music Machine, Kool Moe Dee, The Sound, The Barracudas, Ten City, Ornette Coleman, The Searchers, Donald Byrd, Barclay James Harvest, Animal Collective, Amon Düül, Bootsy's Rubber Band, The Velvet Underground, Harry Pussy, Wings, The Moleskins, Bootsy Collins, Wire, The Raincoats, Thee Headcoats, Los Fastidios, Rakim, The Dave Clark Five, Gang Gang Dance, Stockholm Monsters, It's A Beautiful Day, Alice Coltrane, La Düsseldorf, Lebanon Hanover, Grauzone, June of 44, Lou Reed, Shuggie Otis, Porter Ricks, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.

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)