Francois: My Hollywood Brother.

Francois was unique. He didn’t have to scream for attention. He just stood there, and the room leaned in. 

Francois and Montana talked about moving to Hollywood, forming a band, and about becoming bigger than themselves, and did.

The Soundcheck in Hollywood, California, in 1984—is where Francois and Montana Dave found me.

Recognition was instant. Not the kind that leads to romance, it was family at first sight.

I trusted them before I knew them, and loved them instantly.

Francois was my brother, protector, and my best friend, all wrapped in one.

Between the two of us, there was always something to laugh about, always a reason to pour another round. I tried drinking him under  the table but always lost.

After their band, "The Law," Francois started, "Motorcycle Boy." But Motorcycle Boy wasn’t just a band—it was Francois in sound. It was his heart, his swagger, his longing, and his sarcastic poetry, turned into music.

Watching him onstage felt like watching someone finally become who they were always meant to be. Francois wasn’t pretending, or posturing. He was it. All of it.

Motorcycle Boy weren’t glossy Strip boys. They were a raw, east Hollywood vibe. 

Francois never chased trends, he created his own little universe—rough-edged and beautiful.

He was and is a rare breed, and I still consider him family.