Last night, I went down to the Seal Beach Pier for the final summer concert of 2026 featuring Stevie Nicks Illusion. The place was packed, the energy was incredible, and it was one of the best shows of the summer. Music is magical in helping people CONNECT and remind us that we are NOT SEPARATE, WE ARE ONE.
This morning, I woke up still thinking about the concert and went down a Stevie Nicks rabbit hole. That eventually led me to an old performance of her with Lindsey Buckingham on The Mark & Brian Show on 95.5 KLOS. Wow! What a rabbit hole to fall into!
And just like that, I was back in the Mark & Brian days. That Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham appearance was definitely one of my top ten shows during Mark & Brian’s 25-year reign on Los Angeles radio. As I kept listening to old clips, though, I realized something I don’t think I fully understood until this morning: Mark and Brian are WHY I got up in the morning, and they are HOW they made my mornings manageable and delightful.
For 25 years, Mark Thompson and Brian Phelps weren’t simply two guys I listened to on the radio. They were part of my morning routine. I woke up with them, got ready for work with them, drove to school with them, laughed with them, disagreed with them and, on some days, cried with them. Long before podcasts and streaming gave us thousands of choices whenever we wanted them, there was something special about knowing that thousands of people across Southern California were listening to the same two guys at the same time.
When Listeners Became Part of the Show
One of the things I loved about Mark & Brian was that listeners weren’t just an audience. We became part of the show, and I was fortunate enough to have some pretty memorable experiences because of them. Over the years, I won tickets to Rod Stewart, Journey, Styx, Disneyland and John Waite, just to name a few.
One of my favorite memories involved my first-grade students. I decided to have them write “10 Reasons Why My Teacher Should Get Rod Stewart Tickets.” We ended up getting on the air, and it was so much fun. Mark & Brian even used one of my students’ voices as a little blip for their comedy. Of course, after that, I gave the class a pizza party, and they all cheered. My kids got their moment of radio fame, and their teacher got Rod Stewart tickets.
Everybody won.
I also got to attend one of their “What Would You Do for Super Bowl Tickets?” events, and somewhere in my house I KNOW I have photos from it. Now I’m determined to find them. I even got to go into the KLOS studio once to talk about my “additions,” which is another story in itself. Those were the kinds of things that made Mark & Brian so much fun. You never knew when something you heard on your morning commute might turn into an experience you would still be talking about decades later.
The one thing I never got to experience was one of their legendary Christmas shows, and I still regret that. But I was teaching, school was still in session, and I wasn’t going to abandon my kiddos right before winter break. At the time, I probably thought there would always be another Christmas show, another contest and another morning with Mark & Brian.
Until there wasn’t.
It Wasn’t Just About the Laughs
What I loved about Mark & Brian went far beyond the comedy. Yes, they made us laugh—sometimes until we cried—but there were also vulnerable moments when they helped us through life. There were magical moments and ridiculous moments, but there were also unforgettable mornings when we cried together, shared our grief, talked about our fears and supported one another as CONNECTED HUMAN BEINGS. That’s the part I think I miss the most.
We didn’t have to agree about everything to feel connected. I certainly didn’t agree with Mark & Brian politically most of the time, and don’t even get me started on football. I’m a Bruin, and they were always cheering for USC. But that didn’t mean I turned them off. We could disagree about something and five minutes later they could make me laugh so hard I forgot what I was mad about.
Looking back, there was something really healthy about that. Agreeing to disagree. Somewhere along the way, we seem to have lost some of our ability to disagree with people and still enjoy them. Mark & Brian weren’t asking us to be exactly like them. They were inviting us into a conversation, and for a few hours every morning, Southern California became a community.
The Morning I Needed Them Most
Of all the mornings I spent listening to Mark & Brian, there is one I will never forget: September 11, 2001.
We woke up with Mark & Brian playing just as we had on countless mornings before, but something was different. Their voices were calm, yet serious, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I had come into the broadcast in the middle of what was happening and couldn’t quite grasp what they were talking about. Their silence, their calmness and the way they were narrating what was unfolding actually terrified me.
We turned on the television, something we made a point NOT to do in the morning, and I remember screaming to my husband, “They’re bombing us! And Disneyland is a target!” We lived only about 17 minutes from Disneyland, so at that moment it felt like a very real concern. Nobody knew what was coming next, nobody knew whether there would be more attacks, and nobody knew when it would end.
And then I had to go to work.
Like millions of other teachers and workers across the country, I couldn’t simply stay home and process what was happening. I had a classroom full of children who needed their teacher. I kept Mark & Brian on in the background when I could while trying to distract my students from the chatter and fear surrounding us. Somehow, hearing those familiar voices helped me keep it together long enough to be there for my kids.
At recess, I went into the bathroom by myself and broke down crying. I remember wondering if this could actually be my last day on Earth. That was a real fear in my head that morning, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only person thinking it. Yet I had to walk back into that classroom and be the adult again.
That was one of those moments when having two level-headed comedians on a rock radio station actually helped keep me sane during an insane time. Mark & Brian allowed listeners to call in and talk about their fears. People shared what they were feeling, and together we tried to make sense of something that made absolutely no sense. For those few hours, we weren’t strangers driving around Los Angeles listening to a radio station. We were a community trying to hold each other together.
August 17, 2012: The End of an Era
By the summer of 2012, we already knew Mark was leaving. He had announced his retirement in June, and August 17 was supposed to be his final show. Brian had been negotiating with KLOS, so there was still hope that he would remain and that some version of our morning routine would continue.
Then came August 17, 2012.
During Mark’s farewell show, Brian announced that he would not be returning either. Suddenly, we weren’t just saying goodbye to Mark. We were saying goodbye to Mark & Brian. After 25 years, it was over. No more April Fool’s Jokes (remember when they tricked us by having authentic Mexican music playing out of the blue?) What a bummer day for so many of us KLOS listeners.
I don’t think I realized at the time how much losing that show would change my mornings. Now, almost 14 years later, I think I finally understand it. Mark & Brian were a ritual. Their voices were familiar and comforting, even when what was coming out of their mouths was completely ridiculous: Birthday Shows, Burr, Durandi, and The Drunk shows. They helped us wake up, get moving, sit in traffic, get the kids to school and get ourselves to work. For me, they helped make mornings manageable. And they made them fun.
They also helped me through college, my break-ups, my Master’s, my dad’s death, my marriage, my divorce, my next marriage (26 years last week!), my daughter’s birth, my miscarriages, and my children grew up listening to Mark and Brian as well. We’ve been through a lifetme together.
So Where Are Mark & Brian Today?
After leaving KLOS, both men eventually found their way into podcasting. Mark moved to North Carolina and continued entertaining listeners through projects that included The Mark & Lynda Podcast with his wife, Lynda. Brian remained connected to entertainment as well and teamed up with actress Jill Whelan for The Brian and Jill Show. Thankfully, August 17, 2012 wasn’t the absolute last time we would hear Mark and Brian together.
In 2019, they reunited on KLOS for the station’s 50th anniversary, giving longtime listeners a chance to hear those two voices together again. Then, in 2020, Mark & Brian received the recognition many Southern California listeners probably thought was long overdue when they were inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.
But I still have one request. Mark and Brian, how about a podcast together?
I’m not asking you to get up at three o’clock in the morning again. Those days can stay in 1997. But once a week? Hell, I’ll take once a month. Turn on the microphones, tell us what you’ve been doing, bring back some old friends, talk to a musician, argue about football and give us a little taste of what made mornings so much fun for 25 years.
Would Mark & Brian survive today’s culture? I’m not sure. Would some of the things they said and did back then get them canceled today? Probably. But beneath all the outrageous comedy was something I think we desperately need right now: connection.
They weren’t afraid to laugh at themselves. They weren’t afraid to talk about difficult things. They weren’t afraid to let callers speak, cry, vent or tell a ridiculous story. And somehow two guys sitting behind microphones made thousands of people scattered across Southern California feel like we were all hanging out together.
Maybe That’s Why I Miss Them
Last night, I stood near the Seal Beach Pier surrounded by people singing along to the music of Stevie Nicks. For a couple of hours, strangers danced, laughed, sang and enjoyed something together. Nobody was staring at a screen. We were simply there, sharing an experience.
This morning, Stevie Nicks led me back to Lindsey Buckingham. Lindsey led me back to Mark & Brian. And Mark & Brian led me back to a part of my life I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Maybe that’s the real reason I miss them.
It wasn’t only the jokes, the prizes, the celebrities, the crazy contests or even those incredible Christmas shows I never got to attend. It was waking up every morning knowing there were familiar voices waiting for me. It was laughing before heading into a classroom. It was hearing someone say something completely stupid when I needed to get out of my own head. And on the really difficult mornings, it was knowing there were other people out there feeling what I was feeling.
The Mark & Brian Show wasn’t just a radio show. It was a community.
And on August 17, 2012, a lot of us lost a little piece of that community. Which brings me back to Embracing the Unknown. Could Mark & Brian ever reunite again? I have no idea. Maybe hoping they’ll start a podcast together is our version of waiting for the Beatles to reunite. We know 1987–2012 can never really happen again, just as the world we lived in then isn’t coming back either.
But maybe it doesn’t have to. Once a week? Once a month? Hell, I’ll take a few times a year. Put Mark and Brian in front of two microphones and let the rest of us pull up a chair. Let us laugh, disagree, remember and reconnect for a little while.
Because maybe what I’m wishing for isn’t really the return of a radio show.
Maybe I’m wishing for a little bit of that connection back.
And for those of you who were there with me every morning on 95.5 KLOS, I have to ask:
What is your favorite Mark & Brian memory?
