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Country USA

Style Glam/Hard Rock

It was early 1990. I was residing in Hollywood, California with my band PRETTY VACANT. Pretty Vacant had been signed to New Renaissance Records. This was our second venture out to L.A., the first being in 1989. Both times we “toured” out to the coast. That is to say, back in those days, you could play week long stints in several cities across the United States. They called these “road bands,” and we were one of them.

We would have to play mostly cover material, but we would throw an original in here and there, throughout the night. During our first stay in California, being surrounded by hundreds of bands trying to “make it,” and the current scene of the Sunset Strip; I came up with the idea of the Fashion Police. The look, the concept, everything. It was my back-up plan should Pretty Vacant fail. Imagine my distress when in this, my second Hollywood stay, I was handed a flyer for the band “Rough Justice.” This was a band that dressed up like police officers. I was distraught. I had to see this band that stole my idea. I checked out their show at the Troubadour one weeknight. The crowd was sparse, their songs were un-memorable, “Rough Justice” I thought was a bad name, and these guys dressed like actual police officers.

I mean, these guys looked like the police! This was not the “sex cop” image that I had envisioned in my head. I decided to dismiss them, and they were short lived. I believe there is a flyer of Rough Justice in the HOLLYWOOD ROCKS coffee table book (page 172) to validate their existence. The Pretty Vacant era climaxed in June of 1990. That is when we played a two week stint at the Jazz Cellar in Maui, Hawaii. To this day, those two weeks were probably the coolest rock-n-roll experience that I’ve ever had. During the last few days, I contracted some kind of jungle virus, and was as sick as I’ve ever been. Shortly after returning to the mainland, we decided to go back home to Cleveland. The music scene in Hollywood was changing, and it was time to go home and re-group. Everyone credits Nirvana with destroying the Hollywood glam era, but the tip of the iceberg was Alice in Chains’ “Man in the Box.” Man, that song was everywhere during the early 90’s.

On the way home to Cleveland, our Ford Econoline broke down in the Arizona desert. We were forced to rent a Ryder van, and stuff it with all of our shit and five bodies. I was so sick that I couldn’t drive when it was my turn, and the other four guys were angry with me. The band was already at odds with each other, and this situation didn’t help matters much. I slept for most of that forty-something hour trip home. To me, it seemed like only four hours. Once home, I went to the doctor, and was still ill for several weeks. Shortly thereafter, Pretty Vacant’s fifth drummer, Marc Anthony, quit the band. We recruited my long-time friend Doug King to replace him. Since Doug was the “new guy” in the band, he was quick to recognize the dissention between myself and the duo of Kenny Vacant and Davey Trace. I told Doug of my “Fashion Police” concept, and he loved it.

He convinced me to leave Pretty Vacant with him to start the Fashion Police. Pretty Vacant brought Marc back into the band, and moved back out to California where they were semi-successful battling the grunge/rap takeover. Years and several lineup changes later, Pretty Vacant broke up. Kenny Vacant remained in California, where he still lives today. Doug King must have revealed my concept of the Fashion Police to vocalist Daniel Montesanto. Dan was another one of my long-time friends. In fact, he was my best friend at one point, but we had been at odds over the years over typical band bullshit. That’s how Dan was. Dan’s friends always came first.

I’ve often said that the reason Dan never really had a serious day job is because he always made time for his friends. Friendships take time, and Dan was willing to put in that time. Several people, including myself, could call him their “best friend,” although I don’t know who Dan would call his best friend. Dan would often get into “rifts” with his friends, and there would be a falling out. Six months later, you’d run into him somewhere, all would be forgotten, and the friendship would be back on. Our friendship was about to be back on. I’ll never forget the day and time. It was December 2nd, 1990, at about 8:00pm. I was standing in my kitchen when I got the phone call from Daniel Montesanto. Doug had told him all about the Fashion Police, and Dan wanted in. At first, I was reluctant. After all, I wanted to be the singer! But after a few minutes of convincing, I said OK. I’d planned on touring with this new band “road band” style, and the idea of doing it with two of my closest friends was appealing. At this time, Dan was in the band GINGER ROXX with two of my other close friends: Matt Coso and Tony “TK” Kula. Dan’s leaving Ginger Roxx for Fashion Police created tension between all of us, but years later we got over it.

TK played drums for me in a few bands years later, and Matt Coso is still one of my closest friends today. I got to work immediately on the Fashion Police outfits, logo, and backdrops. My pre-Pretty Vacant roommate, T.C. Flash, worked at a graphics company. He was able to get me a few Police car door stickers that I affixed to my basses. People would always ask where I got these stickers. I would tell them that I was at a backyard party that the police were breaking up. While I was leaving, I noticed a little bit of the police sticker peeling off of the car door. Since the police were busy in the backyard, and nobody was watching, I peeled the sticker off of the car. I ran to my van, and threw the sticker onto my bass case. Later, I peeled the sticker off of my case, and affixed it to my bass properly. A total lie! In the meantime, Derek Lashua had heard that Dan had left Ginger Roxx. Derek had been calling Dan, hounding him to join his Akron based band LANZ END.

I told Dan, next time Derek calls you, tell him to blow off Lanz End, and join Fashion Police. That’s just what Derek did. Derek came down to my basement for his audition, which basically turned into the first Fashion Police rehearsal. Once Derek started playing, he was in the band. He didn’t learn any of the covers that we asked him to learn for that audition, but he came down with the riff that would become “Alone..Together,” and we spent the entire rehearsal developing that song. Over the next few months, we wrote more songs and booked our first gig at the Akron Agora. The Akron Agora was a huge club that gained popularity in the 70’s. The hair metallers adopted it in the 80’s, and in the 90’s after hair metal declined, the Akron Agora went out of business.

It was quite exciting, being side stage, hearing our intro music (“Bad-Boys,” theme from “cops,” followed by irritating police sirens) blaring from the sound system. We were dressed in our “sex-cop” outfits, about to blow the Cleveland/Akron area away, when the un-thinkable happened. Derek fell off the four foot high stage getting into position. He was OK, but his guitar was all fucked up. The DJ had to play some tunes (probably “Man in the Box”) while we got Derek’s guitar back in order. We started the show again without incident. This was just one in a long line of Derek/Fashion Police mishaps that would occur throughout the next year. See the original liner notes/bio for “Callin’ All The Shots” for more details. Fashion Police’s first road trip was to be a three-week long tour of Florida. Three week-long gigs in three different Florida cities.

We bought a 14 foot box van, and converted it into a kick-ass camper/hauler. I got the inspiration to build this thing from a band that I ran into at Saso’s, in El Paso, Texas. It was cool when on your last night of a week long gig, the band for the next week would come into town early and catch your show. Anyway, the band with the inspirational box van was named “Impulse.” Funny thing about these guys was that they had t-shirts printed that on the back read; “If it isn’t IMPULSE, it’s crap!” What was funny, was that everybody in these days had long hair, which covered up the first part of the slogan, so everybody had t-shirts that read: “IMPULSE, it’s crap!” Dan and I worked on the box van one Saturday afternoon for 11 hours straight. Doug was there too, but I remember him not doing much. When we were finished, the truck had a wall half way through it. The back of the truck, which you could only access through the back garage-style door, was for the equipment. The front half, which you could only access through the cab of the truck, had 4 bunk beds, a couch, a closet, a T.V., and a VCR. A better view of this truck is available on the Fashion Police Home Video.

We referred to this monstrosity as “The Yellow Truck,” as it was yellow. We’d cruise down the highway, intimidating other motorists, with cries of “fear the yellow truck!” We didn’t even get out of Ohio when we blew the engine. (for the first time, not the last) We got towed back to Cleveland and proceeded to rent a trailer and borrowed Dan’s boss’s old pickup truck with the specific instructions to drive the pickup off a cliff at the end of the tour. The plan was for Dan’s boss to report the truck stolen, and collect the insurance money. By that time, our yellow truck was to be repaired, and driven down to Florida by Derek’s brother Brett. Our first gig was some shit-hole called “The Other Place,” in Daytona Beach. The thing with these gigs, and I mean these gigs everywhere, is that you were expected start on a Monday or Tuesday, play all night, every night, all week, ending on either Saturday or Sunday. Thing was, nobody would go to the fuckin’ clubs before the weekend.

So, what you did was “hold-back” all week so as not to blow out your voice, so that you could be in good shape for the weekend when people finally did show up. This being Dan’s first “road gig,” (he did play out-of-state one-nighters with Ginger Roxx) he held back a little too much. On Friday afternoon, we were summoned to the club where the owner called me into his office and fired us before the weekend even came. Not only that, but the prick called the agent, who in turn called the other two clubs, and our entire tour was canceled. The owner told me that he couldn’t have us playing his club when the weekend crowds rolled in, and that the reason he fired us was because he felt Dan was terrible. If only the guy would have waited until the weekend, he would have seen the Dan that I knew: one of the best front men in the business!

I never told Dan of this conversation. I didn’t want it to rattle his confidence. I knew Dan had the goods. Fuck this guy! (As you will see on the “F-you” section of the Plug It In original liner notes) Dan stayed in Florida for an extra week with his brother who lived there, while the rest of us went back home in the pickup. Dan’s boss was upset to see the pickup again, as he already had the insurance money spent. I don’t remember exactly where we did and didn’t play after that, but I do know that around Thanksgiving of 1991, we played a week long gig at Rock Island in Wichita, Kansas. This place was great. They had an apartment next door which served as the “band house.” Let me define a “band house” for you. To cut down on costs, most of these clubs would rent some dump of a house close to the club, throw some garbage furniture and good-will dishes in there, and let the bands stay in there for the week instead of paying for hotel rooms.

This apartment in Wichita was actually pretty nice, and it came with a roommate; the head bouncer lived there too, to keep an eye on the place. This bouncer’s name was “Tank,” and everybody loved him. After several days of prodding, we found out his real name, and who he really was. He said his name was Tommy Thomas, and he was the son of Wendy’s Hamburgers founder Dave Thomas. He may have been illegitimate, because when Dave Thomas died, I didn’t find anything about Tommy mentioned in the obituary, but I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth. Being that Tank and Fashion Police were both a bunch of down-home Ohio boys, we all got along famously. The club owners (brothers) were pot heads who also owned the local strip joint. So when the girls weren’t dancing, they’d be hanging out at Rock Island. This led to a very interesting backstage photo-shoot one night, of which I still have the pictures. In December of 1991, we got to work on the Callin’ All The Shots album. We had recorded a 4 song demo earlier so we could get those road gigs, but the quality wasn’t the best, and we’d written more songs since then.

The biggest band in Cleveland at this time was OUTTA THE BLUE, featuring Mike and C.J. Szuter. They were great, and their demo sounded great. We decided we needed to use the same studio and producer that they used: Mars Recording and Bill Korecky. From MUSHROOMHEAD to FATAL CHARM, Bill Korecky made everybody sound great. If you were not up to snuff to let him make you sound great, he would boot you out of the studio. He didn’t want his name associated with crap. Luckily, we didn’t get booted from the studio. Around this same time, we did take a road trip to Des Moines, Iowa for a week long gig between Christmas and New Year’s (1991 to 1992) with New Year’s Eve being the last gig. I knew we wouldn’t get fired here because there was no way they could get a band to replace us for New Year’s Eve on such short notice. We did, however, get shorted substantially on the money at the end of the run. It’s this gig/road trip that’s featured in the 1992 Fashion Police Home Video. Also around this time, Fashion Police started something called Sleazy Sundays.

Basically, we’d play the Sahara Club in Willoughby Hills, Ohio every Sunday night. It became the “thing-to-do” in Lake County on Sundays. Once Callin’ was recorded, we decided to go back on the road while the cassettes were being processed. In those days, it took a long time! (months!) We played Rock Island in the spring of 1992. On our last night there, we opened for Quiet Riot, which was pretty cool. In this version, Chuck Wright was on bass, Bobby Rondinelli was on drums, Carlos Cavazo was on Guitar, and either Kevin DuBrow or Paul Shortino was on vocals. I’m pretty sure it was Kevin. Cavazo left a kick-ass stage shirt backstage, and Derek picked it up. I told Derek to keep it and wear it. I mean, how often do you get Carlos Cavazo’s stage shirt? Somehow, Derek got the shirt back to Carlos. Once back in Cleveland, Derek announced that he was leaving the band to do something with his brother, who by this time had become the drummer for Outta The Blue.

I thought Derek was fuckin’ crazy. We had this great album, “Callin’ All the Shots” that was to come out in a week, that was so good, Fashion Police would surely get signed off of it. This is where the lyric “It’s like quitting school in the twelfth grade, so close and yet so far” from Plug It In’s “Wind Outta Sails” comes from. And so the guitar auditions began. We auditioned four guitarists. The first, Chris Simms, was good, but he lived in Alliance, which was 1 ½ hours away, and I knew weekly rehearsals were going to be a problem, especially during the Ohio winters. This is the guy that Dan wanted, because he could rip off arpeggios, but Doug and I wanted someone else. So, this guy lost, and Dan was always pretty hard on the new guitarist that we did hire because of it. (Chris went on to join DOUBLE-D, featuring David Dennis, who was in Cleveland powerhouse ZAZA) Dan missed Derek. He obsessed over it. I told him, “Dan, Derek quit. We didn’t boot him, he quit. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. Get over it!” Dan got over it. The next guy we auditioned was Jimi Frankito, who answered our ad. Jimi played great, and looked unique.

He was a small dude with this huge-ass, long-ass, black curly hair. He had absolutely no live experience. When I told him a few weeks later over the phone that he didn’t get the job, he was dumbfounded. He asked a resounding, “why?” because he knew he was great. I didn’t really have a good answer. I guess it was just because we liked someone else better. Jimi came out to one of our shows with the new guitarist, and scoffed at him. Funny, because those two (the guitarists) became great friends, and played in a cover band together with me and TK years later. Luckily, I kept Jimi’s phone number, and he didn’t stay mad at us long. He’ll be back in this history soon enough… The fourth guy we auditioned looked great and had great equipment, but he was so intimidated by the Fashion Police, and the fact that he was actually in our practice space auditioning for us, that he literally forgot how to play guitar! Poor kid. It was a real boost to my ego, though.

I don’t remember this dude’s name, and I never saw him again. The guy we ended up taking was guitarist number three: Rob Draye. Since Doug, Dan, Derek, and I, thought it was pretty cool that we all had first names that began with “D,” we made Rob change his name to Draye, Rob. The way that we found Rob was that he was in a band called VALENTINO who also played at the Akron Agora. He looked cool on-stage. Doug went to a prom with his then girlfriend Jen. It just so happened that Rob was at this prom, too, and at some point in the night, Doug and Rob found themselves in the rest room, peeing in urinals next to each other. Seeing Rob’s long blonde (dyed) hair, Doug looked over and said, “You in a band?” “Yeah.” “What band?” “Valentino.” “Cool.” Later, Doug put the wheels in motion between his girlfriend and Rob’s girlfriend to get Rob’s phone number, and we asked him to audition. Rob played all of our songs well.

He was socially quiet, but I liked him because he had blonde hair like Derek, and he only lived about ten miles away. Doug agreed with me, and by 2/3 vote, he was in the band. Derek stayed with Fashion Police until Rob was ready. At Derek’s last gig, at Sadie Rene’s, (a club in North Canton, Ohio, where Rob and I still play to this day) we brought Rob along to play a few songs with us to get his feet wet. I think Rob was a little alarmed backstage when a beer bottle went whizzing by his head, as a literal knock-down-drag-out fight between Dan and his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Lori, ensued. Derek, Doug, and I didn’t bat an eyelash. This is a scene that we’d seen countless times before. We thought it funny that Rob was alarmed. Lori will play into the Fashion Police history again. Damn shame she and Dan could never keep it together.

Dan had the dream of having three boys, and said that Lori would be a good mom, if she could only control her drinking. Dan also said he was cursed by being bitten by the “rock-n-roll bug,” so that he could not pursue this “family dream” at this time. At Rob’s first Sleazy Sunday, some chick came up to me before the show to show me her new tattoo. On her shoulder blade she had a Fashion Police logo with ”Derek” underneath it. “By the way, where is Derek?” she asked. “He left the band,” I replied. “Oh,” she said. Ouch. As she walked away with her head hung low, I didn’t know if I should be sad or laughing inside. Hey, what can you do? Once Rob started to feel more comfortable in Fashion Police, we started working on our next album, PLUG IT IN, featuring riffs that Rob brought with him to the band.

Again, we recorded at Mars with Bill Korecky at the helm. Rob was really good in the studio, knowing exactly what he wanted. Rob was also pretty impressed with my electronics prowess. Bill ordered us to change the pickups in his Ibanez guitar to EMG-85’s. I proceeded to get out a soldering iron, and changed the pickups right there on the control room floor while everyone waited. Dan didn’t have as much confidence in Plug as he did in Callin’. It probably had something to do with the absence of Derek, even though Derek did sing backing vocals on Plug. It took Bill Korecky to convince Dan that Plug was a sonically superior product. Shortly thereafter, the Sahara Club closed down, and Sleazy Sundays were moved to a club called the Purple Panther in Euclid, Ohio. Of course, Daniel immediately re-named the club the “Purple Penis, “ and the name stuck. Everybody called it the Purple Penis. On the eve of Memorial Day of that year, we were expecting a big crowd because nobody had to work the next day. I decided to do something special.

I made a Purple Penis Piñata, and we filled it with condoms, sexual aids, dirty magazines, and all kinds of weird stuff. Now that was a Sleazy Sunday! Eventually, The Purple Penis closed down too. We moved Sleazy Sundays to The Cleveland Café. On our first Sunday there, Dan got arrested onstage right after we started playing. It seems there was a warrant out for his arrest that he didn’t know about. Once Plug was done, Fashion Police went back on the road. This time, the tour would take us all the way to my old stomping grounds of Hollywood, California, where we’d hopefully play to a few record executives that I sent invitations to. (no confirmations, of course) We played two of the usual joints on the way out there; Rock Island in Wichita, Kansas, and Saso’s in El Paso, Texas. This time we went out in a beat up Astro cargo van with Dan’s foam couch and all our equipment behind it. After blowing the second engine on the way home from The White House in Niles, Michigan, “The Yellow Truck” had been repaired and sold.

In the week we were in Hollywood, the guys rented a hotel room on Sunset Boulevard, and I went to the Foundation Forum. One year earlier, Dan and I flew out to the Foundations Forum. The Foundations Forum was a “Heavy Metal Convention” where record companies would push their crap to the masses. We had a great time at the three day event. We yelled at EVERY MOTHER’S NIGHTMARE, (how the hell they got a major label deal and we didn’t still boggles my mind. I always said that somebody switched our two tapes on some record executive’s desk) and we recorded Ice-T’s infamous intro to “Lost In The Ghetto,” which appears on the “A New Minority” album. In L.A. we played four times. Our first gig was at the FM Station. There was a guy who looked like a native-American Indian heckling us. Dan yelled out, “shut up, Geronimo!” between songs. Geronimo ended up being Robby Crane, who at the time was in Vince Neil’s solo band, and is now in Ratt. After our set, we sat down with Robby and chatted. We gave him our cassettes.

I ran into him after a Ratt gig in the late 90’s, and he said he still had the cassettes, and played them occasionally. Our next gig was the “No Bozos” jam at the Whiskey. We had a great timeslot, 11pm, but got bumped to 1am because the band STRIP MIND wanted our time slot. Strip Mind was signed to Warner Brothers, but they were un-impressive. They had a drummer named Sully Erna who went on to form juggernaut GODSMACK. Our last day in Hollywood (a Sunday) we had two shows. The first was an early slot at the FM Station, and then we cruised down Laurel Canyon Blvd. to play a late slot at The Coconut Teaszer. After this gig, we went back to the hotel which was on the corner of Sunset and LaBrea. Rob and I decided to check out Hollywood Boulevard at 2am, as we didn’t have a chance during the week. Rob and I still talk about this evening. It was totally surreal to walk down Hollywood Blvd., and put our hands and feet in the famous hand and footprints at Mann’s Chinese Theatre. It was quiet, and there was nobody around. It’s like they closed Hollywood down for our private tour. Awesome.

It was during this time that Dan started to feel separation from the group. He even showed me a reminder in his daily journal that read, “do not talk to my band.” While on the road, whenever Dan would call Lori, she would say that my girlfriend was telling her that Dan was cheating on her. Supposedly, this information was coming from me, to my girlfriend, to her, to Dan. None of this was true. It was a bluff from Lori. Instead of calling that bluff, Dan bought it hook, line and sinker. So now I was the bad guy. Shortly after this, Dan decided to leave Fashion Police. I think he was at the same crossroads that I was at years earlier with Pretty Vacant. Another thing to mention here is that I feel when it comes to original bands who are trying to “make it,” you have a time limit. If things don’t start to happen in the first two years, they probably are not going to.

Then it’s just a matter of time before the band falls apart. After two years, things usually start to go downhill one way or another. To say we didn’t give it a shot would be a lie. So, Dan left the group, and formed a sort-of “hippy throwback alternative” group called TRIP. They had a cool logo and a good sound. This was my chance to become the lead singer for the Fashion Police as I had wanted to be back in December of 1990. We recruited former Valentino guitarist Joe Fritchen (who had played with Rob previously) to replace me on bass, and I became the singer. We also (temporarily) retired the Fashion police ‘sex-cop” look in favor of an “all black and leather” look. By this time (1993-1994) all of our favorite clubs had closed down due to the decline of 80’s style hard rock. The Akron Agora, Sahara, Spanky’s East, Cleveland Café, and Purple Penis were all gone.

About the only place in Cleveland for us to play during this period was a bowling alley who’s bar had been converted to the Red-Eye Rock Club. It was a real piece of shit compared to the places that fashion Police had regularly been playing up to this point. We played the Red-Eye a few times and then Joe quit. He thought things were going to be like they were for the old Fashion Police. But due to Dan leaving, and the changing climate of music, our crowds dwindled. Rob decided to leave at this time too for the same reasons. Rob and I remained friends, and actually continued working together at our day jobs. It took a few weeks for Doug and I to figure out what we were going to do at this point. We decided to give Fashion police one last ditch effort. We decided to go it as a three piece with me playing bass and singing lead. We had only one guitar player in mind: Jimi Frankito.

The guy we auditioned years earlier, but took Rob instead. If Jimi did not want to be in FP, then that would be it. I called Jimi and told him of the situation, and luckily for us, all had been forgiven, and he would love to be in the newly reformed 3-piece Fashion Police. We got to work immediately on some new material. Jimi had a lot of great riffs, and I had a lot of good lyrical ideas. This was a departure form the original FP sound, but times had changed, and so had the personnel in the band. We decided to record this next album at one of my high school friends “basement” studio for economical reasons. We still had Bill Korecky edit the finished product, which he said sonically “wasn’t too bad.” At this time, the whole “Rodney King incident” was big in the news, and Doug came up with the concept of calling the album “A New Minority,” and the cover art of two black police officers beating down Doug. It was to be an opposite of the Rodney King incident.

If you look closely, there’s also a guy videotaping the incident in the background, to represent the video taper at the Rodney King thing. Our friend Mike Trivosonno took the photo. The guy posing as the cameraman, Doug, and the two black police officers all worked at the O.K. carwash where this photo shoot took place after hours. The new lineup proceeded to play at the Red-Eye, as we had done before. Through mutual contacts, we were able to score a show on a local Chicago public access cable show known as “Rock My Ass.” We were also featured in Metal Edge’s “Rock On The Rise,” as we had been twice before with the “Dan lineup.” We also brought back the “sex-cop” image. This time, we adopted black shirts with white trim. In the past, we had only light blue or white shirts with black trim. After close to a year of this lineup and several shows (no touring) to audiences declining in numbers, we came to the conclusion that Fashion police had run it’s course. We talked about putting together an acoustic “coffee house” thing called “Caffeine Buzz,” but that never developed.

I’m glad it didn’t It would have tarnished everything that we had done over the years. “Acoustic coffee house” just wasn’t who I was or who we were. We decided to send the band out with a bang. We booked a show at the Red-Eye and called it the Fashion Police Funeral. We brought Dan and Rob Draye back for the show and played all of our songs over the years with the different lineups. We had a decent turn out for this show, probably the best turnout we’d had since Fashion Police became a 3-piece. It was at this gig that Dan finally gave Rob a compliment. “You used to suck!” Dan said. Well, Rob took it as a compliment. .. Shortly after that show, the guitar player in Trip left the band to do a country music gig which paid steady money. The guitar player was a career musician, and Trip just wasn’t paying the bills. Dan understood, but was disappointed. Dan, the Trip drummer “The Kid” and I jammed together one time after that, but nothing ever came of it. There was no spark. ..

In 1995 I formed 1988 with Rob Draye. (now Robin Steele, his old Valentino name) 1988 was, and still is, Cleveland’s tribute to 80’s Hard Rock. Playing the hits of Poison, Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Guns-N-Roses, Skid Row, and many more. Dan came out to see us one weekend and liked what he saw. Later that week, he left a message on my telephone answering machine saying that he thought 1988 should cover some Fashion Police material. It was the last time I would hear Dan’s voice. .. .. That evening, September 21, 1995, Daniel Montesanto was stabbed to death. He was 29 years old. His killer was eventually caught, tried and convicted, and has been in jail ever since. Dan was my best friend, and probably always will be. I think of him daily, and often wonder what life would be like for both of us if he were still alive today.

– Callin’ All The Shots [1992]
– Plug It In [1993]
– A New Minority [1994]

 Dave Belanger

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FASHION POLICE, 8.0 out of 10 based on 24 ratings
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