With my obscure musical tastes, it's rare that I see any mention of my musical heroes in the mainstream media.
So you can imagine my surprise this week, when, as I was raptly watching CNN to see updates on the presidential election, I saw this headline scroll across the bottom of the screen:
"Mothers of Invention drummer Jimmy Carl Black dies of lung cancer."
In high school, as my peers listened to No Doubt and Weezer, I blasted Frank Zappa albums in my rusted, silver Nissan Stanza, and sung the praise of albums like Freak Out!, We're Only In It For the Money and Uncle Meat.
Black, who was the Mothers of Invention drummer on the first 10 Zappa albums, was an essential contributor to those early records. The early configuration of the Mothers featured the most outlandish members of the Los Angeles freak scene, including Black, whose Cherokee heritage and hobo-aesthetic helped make those first vinyls an anathema to suburban mothers worried about their teenage sons and daughters. In addition to his solid, dependable drumming, he also gave us unforgettable quotes like, "Hi boys and girls, I'm Jimmy Carl Black and I'm the Indian of the group."
His death last week of lung cancer at 70 years old marked the passage of an unforgettable character in my early musical education, one who will be sorely missed.
Rest in peace, Jimmy.
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