Mark Tulin 11/21/1948 - Forever

It is with absolute sadness and shock that I make this post. I can count on my hands the number of people I consider true friends. I just lost a finger. 
Kerry Brown


I guess that's the first thing you do; call the cell phone number and wait for an answer. "Mailbox full" is not what you hoped to hear. I just saw you the other day and we planned the future and now life has her way with us as we submit to the thunderous wave and memories of the past. I will forever be looking to my right for that shadow of the bass player, hearing the song he created in all of us. You are still here in me so I can't say goodby. Mark was very special.
James Lowe





From Billy Corgan


A Few Thoughts on the Passing of a True Psychedelic Pioneer


I just found out that Mark Tulin died, which is weird because I just
saw Mark Tulin less than 60 hours ago at a worn out deli in Tarzana.
Kerry, Bjorn, Mark and I sat down for a meal just before we went over
to mix ‘Zen Baby’, which was funny because originally that song was
intended to be a song I had for the Prunes. Mark had asked about a
year ago if I had any good ideas that I wasn’t going to use for SP,
and I said “yeah, I got this kind of bluesy, stones riff you might
like.”, and he loved it so we went into Kerry’s submarine to demo it
out. Mark played his walking bass all over it and we worked the idea
back and forth. Towards the end of the song, I had changed a few
chords up, and was doing a guitar overdubub when I hit a series of
unexpected notes that opened the song up into different territory, and
the look on Mark’s face was priceless. He told me later, “when I heard
you hit those notes against those chords I thought to myself ‘I’m
fucked’, because I knew you were never gonna let me have that song
now!” So yes, it was funny that we sat in this broken  deli only hours
ago, us all old soldiers of rock and roll, having our usual laugh
about the things that we found funny, and strange, and unfair in the
world.

During our many hours together,- recording, rehearsing, sharing meals,
Mike Byrne, the SP drummer, all of 19 years old at the time,
befriended Mark and they became running buddies, or as Mark would have
you know it, he became Mike’s limo driver. Mark even helped Mike with
his laundry, because he was a kind man and knew what Mike felt like to
be so young and far away from home, playing in a band. Of course Mark
gave Mike shit for helping him, but the guilt was part of the charm.
Mike turned Mark onto all sorts of bands, everything from Grizzly Bear
to My Bloody Valentine, and Mark soaked it all up, happy to see that
psychedelic music was alive and well so many generations down the line
from his. I told those two they should have a reality show, such an
odd couple, but it says a lot about Mark that he could treat a young
man 40 years his junior as an equal.

Mark was part of a movement of suburban kids in the mid to late 60s
that changed the world with their dark musical dreaming, and of course
their Anglophile obsessions. From their imaginations sprang so many
technicolor daydreams and all manner of wishing; wishing that we were
often what we are not. Professor Psychedelic was his nickname, and he
wore it proudly. You don’t always get credit for being one of the
first across the line like the Electric Prunes were, but we all made
sure to tell Mark many times that we understood what he had done was
important and hugely influential. He had signed his first record
contract at 17, and needed a judge to let him do it because he was a
minor. By 19 the record company had stolen the band name away and was
putting out an Electric Prunes band that had none of the original
members. Mark’s band was stolen from him, a fact he had never fully
gotten over. It was a deep wound, but he fought to get the name back
and had to go to court to do so. The judge let him sign his life away
in the first place, and it was a lucky  judge who gave him back his
dignity. All those terrible things drove the two friends who had
started the band apart, and after 30 years they came back together to
make music again. As it should be.

He said to me the other day, jokingly, “I am the Electric Prunes”, and
I said laughing back, “well, I’m the Smashing Pumpkins!”, but we said
these things because it had never been easy for both of us, the band
road, the politics, the heartbreak of it all. I know he loved James,
the lead singer of the Prunes, seeing him as someone born for the job,
and I agreed. Some bands just have the ‘it’ factor, and to those in
the know, the Electric Prunes had it in spades before the blueprint
was cast in cliched stone. Check out their album ‘Underground’ to see
what was and also what might have been had they stayed un-fucked with.

Playing music with Mark was always a joy, he was truly a great,
sympathetic musician, a native bass player who knew his instrument and
played with a quiet fire. I loved working with him, and he was very
supportive and complimentary of me as I was coming out of a rough
time. Words can not express how much I enjoyed creating music with
him, and it was a great honor to have him play on some of these recent
SP tracks; ‘astral planes’, ‘widow wake my mind’, and many others,
tons of unreleased stuff. He played a long lost style that was
incredibly responsive to the vocals, and to the song. A lost art.

Mark was an expert deep sea diver diver, had a masters in psychology,
and once ran some family business, carpets or something. I told him,
‘boy, you’ve had an interesting life!’. He was incredibly sarcastic,
but not caustic, but so obviously was a softy, especially when it came
to his daughter and ex-wife, who became his best friend after their
divorce. You got the feeling that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do
for those he loved. We talked a few days ago about recording a song at
Kerry’s for a new Prunes record, a song called ‘Medicine’ that I wrote
just for them. There is a demo, quite cool and fun and sounding like
the Prunes for the 21st century. Hopefully we can finish that, what we
have there. It will be only a small way to show our love for the man.

Mark played with us when Sky Saxon died, at his memorial. Mark had
mixed feelings about Sky as a person, and it made him a bit
uncomfortable; all the love for Sky after he died, like everyone had
an easy memory in death. So we talked about it, and I asked what he
honestly felt, I could tell it was confusing to him. I could tell by
talking that he thought ‘if everyone only knew the Sky I know!’, but I
reminded him that what he was honoring, with us, was the spirit and
love that Sky had brought through his music, and that he (Mark) was
deserving of the same honor. He gave me a snide ‘alright, alright’ and
that was the end of it. He just wanted to play music, and the rest to
him was a bit of a show, but we played well at Sky’s memorial because
we were brothers, and that’s what brothers are supposed to do for our
own. It was a night of wonderful music; The Prunes played was a punky
spite and The Strawberry Alarm Clock evoked a patchouli soaked world
of innocence. I hope we can do the same for Mark, but who will play
bass?

I’ve avoided saying so far how incredibly sad this makes me, his
passing, for Mark was still a fairly young man who had lots of plans
and living to do, and I’m guessing that dying would really piss him
off. In fact I know it would!! He died at least doing what he loved to
do, helping others, as a volunteer, being part of a rescue team that
helped distressed divers off Catalina Island. Mark had even helped
dive for corpses in New Orleans, post-Katrina. He had a certain pluck
and courage that makes sense if you knew him. He wasn’t a hugger or a
hippie, he was mostly interested in making the groove click and ‘why’
you picked one note over the other. He was big on the ‘why’ question.
He reminded me many times, just by him being who he naturally was,
that music is a religion for grown up boys like us, better than any
suburban god or rainbow stories on the horizon.

The last thing I said to Mark when we parted the other day, just out
in front of a music store, was that I’d be back in town probably for
my birthday in a few weeks. “You’re invited of course”, I said, “but
you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” He laughed quite loud,
enjoying my guilt trip on him and the subtle dig at the same time. I
always tried to make time with him when I was in town, no matter what,
because I just wanted him to know that I saw him as someone worthy of
a lot of respect and admiration. Mark made friends with everyone in my
world, because his sweetness was always right there to be found. That
says a lot to me, that he touched everyone I knew in an individual
way.

One final story…Mark played with SP when we played the Tonight Show,
and just before we were on, they dropped a screen door in front of us,
and pumped some white smoke into our box to make the lights look
better. We were on in 60 seconds, and Mark says to me, “you know, when
my people see a door close and the gas gets pumped in, we get a little
nervous.” Thanks Mark…! And 1-2-3, cue music, we were on live…

God Bless you Mark, you will always be a star.

PS. I wrote this last night. I just woke from a dream that Mark was
in. It was a party in somebody’s backyard, and I found myself staring
at him thinking ‘how is it that he is here?’ I watched him, and he
seemed and acted completely normal. Eventually we were alone on a
couch, and I leaned over and said “you know, it’s funny but I’ve been
sad all day because you had died, and yet, here you are! “ Mark nodded
his head, understanding what I was saying. “Mark, is this a dream?
Because it doesn’t feel like a dream.” He again nodded his head,
concerned that I was a bit confused. He smiled and said, hoping to
explain his being there, “Well, it’s just that now we aren’t in such
a hurry.”