Pat Leonard 1966-2008

Friday, October 31, 2008
Pat Leonard 1966-2008

Pat Leonard was like my brother. We met when we were kids, growing up in Ipswich, Ma. we quickly formed a bond of friendship and musical camaraderie that would spread over thirty years. The connection we shared in our two bands, "Iron Cross & Moving Targets", was a true musical chemistry. Like many brothers, there were times of tension and disagreement, but underneath, always a reliable trust. Aside from my own father, he was the first guy to whom I ever said, "I love you man". We never had trouble letting each other know that we really cared about each other.

Playing music with Pat was always exciting, often explosive, and constantly an inspiration. He was a star in the best sense of the word. Playing live, he embodied the definition of stage presence, moving like a flamenco dancer with a knife held between his teeth instead of a rose. He played with such power and aggression that he became well known for breaking strings on his bass guitar (which is a pretty difficult thing to do). His handsome dark looks ensured that the targets had some sex appeal, and that Lenny would have some girls trying to get his attention while we blasted through our set. He was a force to be reckoned with on all counts.

Pat didn't have a mean bone in his body. He would do anything for a friend and never looked for thanks. Lenny never held a grudge in his life that I was aware of, and I always knew that he would be there for me if I needed him. There was a pure honesty that guided his personality that was rare and touching. I remember being on tour with him in 1994, and going to a party after a gig. Our host had a couple of guitars lying around and we traded songs in the living room, recalling our early days jamming in his basement. We played, "Castles Made of Sand" by Jimi Hendrix, and got teary eyed on the last verse because it's such a sad fucking song. That's what music meant to the two of us.

In later years after we no longer played in bands together, I would often (but not often enough) visit Pat at his home in Jamaica Plain. He continued to play music and started writing songs of his own, eventually building a home recording studio to capture his music, as well as making records for other bands. He just kept getting better at it, and would give me a call to come visit and hear his latest compositions. His songs had the intensity of The Targets, and the deep straight forward emotion of what was inside of him. I couldn't help but be proud of his accomplishments as a songwriter. It continued to be an important part of his life, and he put together some great bands along the way.

Through out the post Targets years I lost count of the number of times that fans and fellow musicians came to me to sing the praises of his talent as a player. He really was someone they all looked up to.

In the last year I moved to Los Angeles and spoke with Pat on the phone a handful of times. Three nights before I got a call from Pat Brady telling me that he had passed away, I had a vivid dream that the three of us were together again, playing music. Like many dreams, I couldn't make much sense of the meaning of it, but it was the second time in a week that he had come to me like that. I had been trying to contact Pat recently, but his phone was disconnected. I could only guess that these dreams were his way of trying to reach me. It still hasn't sunk in that he is gone. I'll never forget my friend and brother. I am grateful for the time we spent together and the music we made. Rest in Peace. I love you.