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The First Time I met Taime.

When I first met Taime in 1983, he barely spoke above a whisper whenever conversation turned his way. But beneath that quiet exterior beat the heart of someone who could match my every sarcastic jab with one twice as cutting. Within weeks, I'd claimed him as my honorary brother—first in San Diego, then in Hollywood too.

When I moved to Hollywood the second time, I watched Taime transform. Gone was the shy kid; in his place stood someone who could charm his way into any VIP section with nothing but a grin. He introduced me to everyone worth knowing. We crashed on each other's couches, shared last dollars, and always had each other's back.

In 1985, Taime Downe emerged from Hollywood’s underground to found Faster Pussycat, crafting a sound that married glam metal’s theatrics with punk’s snarl.

While Mötley Crüe, Guns N’ Roses, and Poison became the faces of the Sunset Strip explosion, Taime was its beating heart.

By day he worked at Retail Slut on Melrose Avenue; by night, he worked the lights at the Troubadour Club or spun records at the Seven Seas.

Taime co-founded the club Cathouse with Riki Rachtman that became our after-hours sanctuary. Between selling millions of records and sharing stages with Alice Cooper, Kiss, and David Lee Roth, Taime cultivated something grittier than his contemporaries: less glam, more street swagger. With his leather-wrapped frame and scarf-draped neck, he wasn’t just another pretty face in makeup—he was the architect of “sleaze rock,” glam metal’s chain-smoking cousin who preferred back alleys to spotlights.

The title still follows him today: the undisputed king of sleaze.