Thursday, October 15, 2009
They should let you right in.
Not just any punk impresario, Brendan Mullen was The LA Punk scene.
Musicians couldn't break a guitar string in this town without Brendan knowing about it. I wasn't, and I still am not, a musician. I had the lovely pleasure to call Brendan a friend. He was LA family. In LA, all the disenfranchised folks find each other and create what we need and many times, we recreated what we were trying to get away from. Brendan, for me, was a sweet mixture of both and I believe he would say the same about me. I've known Brendan for close to thirty years and I am so moved to see the outpouring of love from everyone who knew him. The genuine caring this man put into his life's work- promoting the best of Los Angeles music and bringing us the best the rest of the world had to offer was always peppered with his salty brogue and dry wit. The blue eyes twinkled in the dark smokey clubs and his ears were perked to what was happening on stage. He prevailed the victor in many of his battles with personal demons. He was smart enough to recognize the authentic love in Kateria and he made the decision to deal head on with his Lothario ways. He never owned a home, but he always had a place for a friend to stay. He wasn't a comedian but I always laughed when I was with him.
He also had an excellent reputation as an A-1 DJ. His eclectic musical tastes guaranteed that he had more than just a little something for everyone. When he wasn't spinning disks at a party, he was the life of the party. A renowned raconteur, he was a bit of rascal and could kick some dust between folks just out of boredom.
Brendan was loved by so many. He loved so many. My life is richer for having been one of those people.