Song picture
Slow Face (Losing My Grip)
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Recorded either June or July, 1981 at Quad-Tek Studios (24-track). Lineup: Jerome Faulkner/Jesse Jacobson/David Letwin/Eddie Sena/Robert Teegarden. Produced by The Trend. Engineered by Pat Burnette.
jacobson trend faulkner hardy sena douglass frankel kepler letwin odumosu sauerwein teegarden
Artist picture
Wacky Post-Punk New Wave 70s & 80s Music performed by a bunch of guys who looked like Physics Majors.
The Trend was a unique but, alas, unknown post-punk/new wave rock band from 1979-1981 around the L.A. and Southern California area. Having risen from the dead (well, a prolonged middle age stupor anyway), various ex-members got together three times for a 20 year reunion in 1999, 2000 & 2001 with the plan of producing/releasing a CD retrospective/oral history of their greatest hits that never were, as well as recording songs for a reunion CD! This has yet to be completed a decade later but may yet see the light of day before the end of this decade! Numerous mp3 song downloads, additional vintage and recent photos, fliers, used condoms (just kidding) and inane commentary will be added soon. So stay tuned (not that our guitars ever did)!
Song Info
Charts
Peak #118
Peak in subgenre #8
Author
Jesse Jacobson
Rights
1981 & 2014, BMI
Uploaded
March 20, 2014
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.0 MB 160 kbps 2:38
Story behind the song
Written 3/10/1981 - 3/13/1981. From the final 4-song Trend demo finally recorded in ideal 24-track studio/circumstances in the course of a day. Robert Teegarden (Lead Vocals), Jerome Faulkner (Keyboards, Vocals), Jesse Jacobson (Guitars, Vocals), David Letwin (Bass), Barry Sauerwein (Drums).
Lyrics
and now i’m losing my grip i can feel it slip where did all the godless Sundays go when did the cell reproduction slow who can put each part back in it’s place who can stitch a smile on this slow face because i’m losing my grip i can feel it slip now my baby blues no longer play my bronzed baby shoes have run away the quick jaws of tomorrow start to prey on sacrificial lambs of yesterday yellow turns to gray granite turns to clay as time makes sure the great white shark’s reduced to fish filet and now i’m losing my grip i can feel it slip the fruits of all my labors fall away my salad days now wither and decay but somehow i have managed to survive tomorrow i’ll be turning twenty-five warm hands turning cold white teeth turn to gold as the light grows dimmer all the new lamps turn too old that’s why i’m losing my grip i can feel it slip
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