Warrant debuts with secret weapons and skeletons in the closet on January 31, 1989


Ah, the late '80s, that glittering, gaudy vortex of excess! Los Angeles, the Sunset Strip – a neon-lit jungle where dreams clawed their way up from the gutters, enveloped in hairspray and leather pants, electric guitars screaming like banshees in the night! And into this maelstrom, on January 31, 1989, bursts Warrant, those Hollywood hustlers, unleashing their debut album Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich upon an unsuspecting world hungry for hooks, for heartaches wrapped in power chords, for anthems that could make the stadiums shake and the groupies swoon.

Pow! There it was, certified platinum, storming the charts with its sleazy swagger, peaking at number 10 on the Billboard 200, spawning hits that blasted through car radios and MTV screens like fireworks in a fireworks factory explosion! The title alone encapsulating the 80s zeitgeist!

But while Warrant visually resembled the glam bands that were a dime a dozen in the wake of Poison and Theatre of Pain-era Motley Crüe, the band's debut sported two sonic weapons rarely associated with such acts: a frontman who was as talented a songwriter as the best in the business, and guitar solos that had amateur guitarists seeking the transcriptions as rabidly as the girls were hunting for Warrant pin-up posters.

"Down Boys," "Heaven," "Big Talk," "Sometimes She Cries" - if you bought the record in 1989, those hooks are still lodged in your brain today. That is courtesy of one John Kennedy Oswald of Akron, a.k.a. Jani Lane. In Lane, uber producer Beau Hill had songcraft superior to what many outside song doctors he could have called in would have provided - already in the band! That wasn't necessarily the case in the guitar department, however.

From start to finish on Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich, the guitar solos were undeniably impressive, technically dazzling, and perfectly suited to the songs' expansive aspirations. The credits, naturally, pointed to the band's guitarists, Joey Allen and Erik Turner.

But in the shadowed corners of the recording studio, amidst the clinking champagne glasses and the whispers of industry insiders, a fascinating truth emerged: much of that molten lead, those electrifying, show-stopping solos, were ghost-performed by the enigmatic Mike Slamer. Slamer, a session ace with a prodigious talent for melodic shredding, was the unseen hand, the secret weapon deployed to ensure every note was a bullseye, every bend a heartbreaker. It's a classic Hollywood maneuver, writ large on the canvas of rock and roll: the dazzling star gets the glory, while an unsung Colt Seavers crafts the magic behind the curtain. A six-string conspiracy worthy of a Milli Vanilli documentary.

Now, Hill has characterized this as a nod to the cutthroat perfectionism of the era, where an album had to be not just good, but perfect if it was to break through the cacophony. He argued in an interview with the website Full in Bloom that Allen and Turner would be judged against Eddie Van Halen and Warren DeMartini. These are not necessarily persuasive excuses for pulling one over on the record buyers. Guitarists in bands similar to Warrant were rarely virtuosos of that caliber, with Derek Frigo of Enuff Z'Nuff being the rare exception. In other words, the fans weren't expecting the kind of guitar hero pyrotechnics, the godly-constructed Mike Slamer solos that were mini-compositions in and of themselves, when they bought DRFSR. Allen and Turner must have been quite underwhelming to not meet the low bar before them.

Yet, to be fair to Allen and Turner, Hill did the same thing when he produced Twisted Sister. He brought in the phenomenal Reb Beach, soon to make a name for himself in the guitar world with Winger, even though Eddie Ojeda and Jay Jay French were perfectly adequate guitarists. Did Hill's ghost players make these albums way better, especially for those who appreciate fine musicianship alongside great songwriting? Yes. And in the case of Warrant, Slamer's work made their debut a true classic that remains fresh after four decades and countless plays. A glam metal record that even the most jaded shredders can praise? That's almost unheard of outside of DRFSR.

So, when you revisit Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich, don't just hear the catchy choruses and the MTV-ready swagger. Listen deeper. Hear the exquisite craft of Jani Lane's songwriting, the bittersweet poetry lurking beneath the party-rock veneer. Remember a talent who left this mortal coil all too soon in 2011. And then, marvel at those perfectly sculpted solos, knowing that somewhere, a wizard named Mike Slamer laid down the tracks that helped define a moment, a sound, an entire glorious, over-the-top, deeply American decade as it neared its end. It was more than just music; it was a cultural phenomenon, bottled and released, perfectly, on January 31, 1989.

Location: Akron, OH, USA

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