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 Ivory Coast and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brothers Johnson to the rap 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.

All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.

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

I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Juan Atkins, Tropical Tobacco, Niagra, T.S.O.L., New Order, Henry Cow, Connie Case, Radio Birdman, Electric Light Orchestra, Reuben Wilson, Fear, Echospace, Rotary Connection, Liliput, Matthew Bourne, James Chance & The Contortions, Man Parrish, Fatback Band, David Axelrod, Lindisfarne, The Blues Magoos, The Count Five, Das Ding, The Dirtbombs, Bobby Sherman, Todd Rundgren, Ralphi Rosario, the Bar-Kays, Marcia Griffiths, Nico, Sällskapet, Magazine, The Dead C, Vainqueur, Pet Shop Boys, Danielle Patucci, The Motions, Rites of Spring, Patti Smith, Dave Gahan, Archie Shepp, Flipper, Fat Boys, Prince Buster, Babytalk, Stiv Bators, Kenny Larkin, The Smoke, Peter and Kerry, Gastr Del Sol, John Holt, Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, E-Dancer, The Misunderstood, Sun City Girls, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, The Modern Lovers, Supertramp, Faust, Essential Logic, the Swans, Country Teasers, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.

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)