The Electric Prunes Tribute to Mark (1948 - 2011)

STEVE KARA (lead guitar)
Mark and I had a great relationship, in and out of the band. We really got along well just as humans…but wow, on stage, it was magic. While there certainly was a lot of eye contact and smiling between us every time we played, even with our backs turned, we could sense what the other was about to do or play, and without looking, knew how the other would react and respond, with continuous interplay.

I just had a dream that we were once again on stage and someone yanked the cable out of Mark's bass, and he just vanished. I didn't really see him disappear, but I knew he was gone, the magic was lost, the music wasn't right any more. As James is the face and voice, Mark was the heart and soul of the Electric Prunes. He's in his own personal hideaway. Now what are we gonna do?

JAY DEAN (guitar)
I'm really grateful for the time I got spend with Mark travelling, playing music, him watching me eat, I'll never forget any of it. He was such a cool guy to hang out with, great stories, witty, never snarky. It was neat hearing from the other people in his life at the services. I wish I could have attended his lectures that had to have been good times. We lost a good one here, folks.

I do know that I was lucky to call him my friend, and share in the music with him as The Electric Prunes for the past 5 years. Mark was the real thing, a musicians' musician. I would also like to thank the other members James, Steve, and Jay for their friendship, but especially Mark who always laughed at my twisted sense of humor.

The thing about Mark Tulin to me was that he was a bass player first. Some of the music we played together may never be heard by the masses. But even if it remains in "The Vault", I remember having more fun playing it than I've ever had playing with any other musician I ever knew. He could go farther out and deeper down than anyone else I ever played with, without getting "lost". You could not lose him. He was always there no matter where you went and being from the sixties, that meant everything. Of course, Mark knew that.

Mark was just standing here a minute ago. I can still hear his voice and see him at the piano, fooling around with some new idea; or maybe he is playing some Beatle tune commenting on the cool chords. His image is so strong he has stayed around a while before his long day's flight. He is whispering in my ear that he likes all this attention but he wants us all to remember the music we made after he is totally gone. I can't forget.