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 Dominica and from Manchester.
But I was there.

I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.

To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mission of Burma to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.

All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.

I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.

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

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

But have you seen my records?

Radio Birdman, Be Bop Deluxe, Cameo, Sunsets and Hearts, The Cowsills, Nick Fraelich, Tim Buckley, The Red Krayola, Albert Ayler, Make Up, Joey Negro, The Gories, Kaleidoscope, The Residents, Eddi Front, Freddie Wadling, Soft Cell, Louis and Bebe Barron, EPMD, Traffic Nightmare, Mad Mike, Index, Lou Christie, Jesper Dahlbäck, Duran Duran, Larry & the Blue Notes, Todd Terry, Soft Machine, Pet Shop Boys, Dark Day, Pagans, Lungfish, Wings, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Suicide, Animal Collective, The New Christs, Unrelated Segments, Barclay James Harvest, Skaos, Los Fastidios, The Monks, DJ Style, The Cure, Harmonia, Jeff Mills, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Motions, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Roxy Music, Rekid, Buzzcocks, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Arthur Verocai, Eve St. Jones, The Zeros, Fatback Band, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Intrusion, Marvin Gaye, Rufus Thomas, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.

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)