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 Guatemala and from Accra.
But I was there.

I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the organ 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.

All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

the Slits, Pole, Robert Wyatt, Minny Pops, The Searchers, ABC, U.S. Maple, The Move, Kango’s Stein Massive, The United States of America, Banda Bassotti, Roger Hodgson, Pussy Galore, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, The Doobie Brothers, The Selecter, Visage, Big Daddy Kane, The Star Department, Barry Ungar, The Gladiators, The Index, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, The Monks, Scrapy, Shuggie Otis, Gabor Szabo, This Heat, Kerri Chandler, The Vogues, Aswad, The Raincoats, Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Bang On A Can, Cameo, Metal Thangz, Tim Buckley, Deadbeat, Pantytec, Echo & the Bunnymen, a-ha, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Ossler, Stockholm Monsters, The Blackbyrds, Matthew Halsall, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Bobby Sherman, Subhumans, Crash Course in Science, Kenny Larkin, Slick Rick, Fort Wilson Riot, John Coltrane, Blake Baxter, Silicon Teens, Aural Exciters, The Toasters, Anthony Braxton, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.

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)