Infinitely Losing My Edge
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 Slovenia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Grandmaster Flash to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hashim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Young Marble Giants,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Y Pants,
Fear,
Traffic Nightmare,
Boredoms,
Connie Case,
Theoretical Girls,
Pussy Galore,
The Offenders,
The Dirtbombs,
Zero Boys,
Sugar Minott,
Public Enemy,
The Young Rascals,
Jimmy McGriff,
Agitation Free,
Faust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Donald Byrd,
Infiniti,
Duran Duran,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
Marine Girls,
The Fuzztones,
The Mojo Men,
Sister Nancy,
The Modern Lovers,
Yaz,
Ultimate Spinach,
The United States of America,
The Residents,
Saccharine Trust,
Altered Images,
Buzzcocks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scratch Acid,
Harmonia,
Juan Atkins,
DNA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ten City,
The Knickerbockers,
Reagan Youth,
Derrick May,
New Order,
the Association,
Sight & Sound,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grandmaster Flash,
Freddie Wadling,
Avey Tare,
Nas,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.