These Are People Who Died, 2025 PART 2
The deaths didn't seem to stop ....
Okay, yesterday I looked at musicians who died in the first six months of 2025. Today we look at those who left us between July and December.
As I said yesterday, each one here has a link to an actual obituary with more info on these remarkable pickers, singers, and instrumentalists.
As I said above, this certainly is not an exhaustive list, so, like I said last year, if I missed your favorite ... WRITE YOUR OWN DAMN LIST !
So let’s get this done:
Jimmy Swaggart (Died 7-1-25 and went to Rock n Roll Hell) I know he was Jerry Lee’s cousin. But Swaggart’s crazy jihad against the music I love (and even rock journalism) back in the ‘80s put him pretty high up on the Rock n Roll Enemies List. And that made his prostitution scandals even funnier.
Tom Lehrer (Died 7-26-25). He looked like a nerdy college math professor. There was a reason for that. Professoring was Lehrer’s bread and butter for decades. But for a tragically brief time in the 1950s and ‘60s, he also had a knack for writing twisted and hilarious little tunes. He sang about a creep who liked to poison pigeons. He shared an ancient folk song he made up about a sweet little Irish lass with a murderous streak, a show tune looking for a show, about the circle of life being played out in the spread of venereal disease, a sweet ode to an old dope peddler. He sang a cheerful ditty about nuclear annihilation. If you don’t know these, educate yourself! The recording career of Mr. Lehrer lasted only a dozen years, between 1953 and 1966. But his songs have lasted and even the most topical of them rarely seem dated. A few years ago Lehrer formally relinquished the copyrights on his songs, putting them all in the public domain and even created a website where you can download for free any song of his you want. And hey, Lehrer had a New Mexico connection. He briefly (two months) worked at Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory (now called Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory) in 1952. That little stint might have sparked the song below:
Flaco Jimenez (Died 7-31-25) Flaco is one of the very few of my musical heroes with whom I ever got stoned. That was back in the early 1980s when I was covering a show for The Santa Fe Reporter featuring Flaco backing Peter Rowan at the (late lamented) Line Camp. Even before sharing a joint with the master Tex-Mex accordion player, that was a weird show. The poster for the concert showed the names of both performers with pictures of Rowan and Jimenez facing each other. A big portion of the packed audience there had assumed that Flaco would be playing at least a complete set of his own material. But after the two came out together and played several Rowan songs it became obvious that Flaco was supposed to be just a sideman that night. The crowd started yelling “Flaco!” “We want Flaco!” Finally Rowan relented and let his famous sideman do a few solo tunes. Like the rookie reporter I was, I asked an obviously stupid question of Rowan backstage: “How did it make you feel when people started telling for Flaco?” Rowan gave an appropriate answer: “It was great. I’m an old sucker for ego destruction.” When I spoke with Flaco backstage (where he offered me to share the joint he was smoking, somehow, the conversation turned to another Texas-born Mexican-American, Sam the Sham. Flaco started laughing. “Sam the Sham! Wooooly Booooly!” he said repeatedly and laughed even harder. So I was especially happy when I stumbled upon this video recently:
Chris Gage (Died 8-24-25) It seems that virtually all the Austin musicians I know were friends of Gage — a singer, picker, producer and sound engneer nicknamed the “Iron Man of South Austin,” who once was part of bands backing Roy Clark, Jerry Jeff Walker and Jimmie Dale Gilmore. And with his wife, Christine Albert, he was half of the musical duo Albert & Gage. Also probably half the Santa Fe musicians I know knew him as well — thanks to Christine being a major part of our music community here back in the ‘70s and early ‘80s. I’ve known Christine since the first time I heard her play with her old band The Ozone Express back circa ‘76-’77. But I’m not sure that I ever met Chris, unless it was a quick hello when I saw Albert & Gage play a Folk Alliance show in Albuquerque around the turn of the century. After he died, The Texas Music Commission released a statement praising Gage and calling him “a deeply talented, community‑minded artist whose life was a testament to the power of music to connect, heal, and uplift.” Here’s a Tom Peterson song he sang that I bet Gage would have chuckled to see as a part of a memorial to himself:
Mark Volman (Died 9-5-25) Volman became famous as a frontman for The Turtles, (along with his pal Howard Kaylan), a band that, frankly, I never was very impressed me. I used to laugh at their hit song “Eleanore” with its cheesy lyrics like “I really think you’re groovy/Let’s go out to a movie” and “Your lips intoxicate me/Even though your folks hate me...” But years later I read a quote by Kayland explaining that the song actually was a tongue-in-cheek jab at their record company, which had been pressuring the band to come up with a new “Happy Together” clone. But while I wasn’t a huge Turtles fan, I love the work that Volman and Kaylan did as “Flo & Eddie” with Frank Zappa’s Mothers of invention in the early ‘70s, especially the albums Fillmore East 1971 and Just Another Band From L.A. Here’s the version of my favorite song from Just Another Bande. And, like Eleanor, gee I think it’s swell:
Sonny Curtis (Died 9-19-25) Back in the early ‘80s, my friend Paul Milosevich, an artist and fellow music fanatic who had recently moved to Santa Fe, had a party at his house. Naturally the soiree soon turned into a song circle. For the sake of those of us who had not brought an instrument, Paul brought out a guitar that had once belonged to an old friend of his, Sonny Curtis, a former member of Buddy Holly’s Crickets and writer of songs like “I Fought the Law,” The Everly Brothers’ “Walk Right Back” and “Love is All Around” — yes, the theme song of The Mary Tyler Moore Show! And I got to play it. Unfortunately, none of Sonny’s talent rubbed off from those strings. But it still was a thrill. Here’s Sonny with his greatest song.
Danny Thompson (Died 9-23-25) Thompson was a much-in-demand musician in England. In 1964, he bought a double bass that had made 99 years earlier. He named it “Victoria” and he used it when he was a member of bands like Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated and the folk/jazz group Pentangle in the late 1960s. Not to mention tons of session work with folks like Marianne Faithfull, Kate Bush, Donovan and Nick Drake. I remember him best from his work with Richard Thompson. Here’s a nice spooky one from that duo.
Donna Jean Godchaux (Died 11-2-25) She was best known as a singer with The Grateful Dead for a big chunk of the ‘70s. But before she was playing in that band, she was a sought-after background singer who performed on classic records like Percy Sledge’s “When a Man Loves a Woman” and Elvis Presley’s “Suspicious Minds.” I know that a lot of Deadheads say that their least favorite era of their favorite band was the Keith & Donna period (Keith being Donna’s late husband, keyboardist Keith Godchaux). A little tie-dye misogyny in Deadheaddom? But as a casual Dead fan, I loved most of her contributions to the band, her sweet Southern soul vocals adding new colors to the group. Here’s a video I just discovered.
Jimmy Cliff (Died 11-24-25) Next only to Robert Nesta Marley, Jimmy Cliff was the most influential reggae singer in history. His role in the 1972 film The Harder They Come both as an actor and in soundtrack contributions brought reggae to the consciousness of untold millions. (Personal aside: I believe the first reggae song I ever heard was Desmond Dekker’s “The Israelites,” which was a minor hit in 1969, a few years before I even heard the word “reggae.” And, as I’ve written several times in various places, my favorite reggae album of all eternity is Bunny Wailer’s Blackheart Man.) Though The Harder They Come was, beyond argument, the highpoint of Cliff’s popularity, the man continued to make albums up to 2022’s Refugees. Here’s the title track, a timeless song in which rapper Wyclef Jean sets the stage:
Steve Cropper (Died 12-3-25) Cropper first became famous first as the guitarist for a Memphis band called The Mar-Keys, who had a hit with the song “Last Night” in 1961. Just a year later he found even more success as the guitarist for Booker T. & The MGs. So green onions for everyone! But as all true fans know, this band and its members had a whole lot more than that major hit in them. Cropper and these guys basically played with virtually every act on Stax Records, where Cropper, aka ”The Colonel” also worked as the A&R man. He played on records by Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Johnny Taylor, Rufus Thomas and many more. That famous guitar lick in Sam & Dave’s “Soul Man”? That was Cropper. He alsoco-wrote many of the biggest hits to come out of Stax, including Pickett’s “In the Midnight Hour” and “634-5789,” Eddie Floyd’s “Knock on Wood.” Also, with Otis, he penned a sad little song called “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” After his time at Stax, Cropper went on to play and record with all sorts of soul, rock, pop and country stars from Neil Young to José Feliciano; from Bob Dylan to Wayne Newton; from John Lennon to Ann-Margret. And of course he was a Blues Brother. Though he’s best known for that soul guitar, Cropper even sang now and then. Here he is trading verses on perhaps his greatest song with Robert Cray and Dave Edmunds:
Scott Richardson (Died 12-7-25) This one I take personally. Scott was lead singer of the psychedelic band SRC. The group was from Ann Arbor, Michigan and did their damage during the late ‘60s, that same place and time that spawned The Stooges The MC5 and others. I knew Scott through our mutual friend Gregg Turner, a founding member of The Angry Samoans, who’s lived in New Mexico for more than 30 years. Scott moved to northern New Mexico too a few years ago. He’d often back Gregg at gigs in the time he was here. Last year the three of us went to see Jonathan Richman here in Santa Fe. Here’s a photo of this terrible trio I took backstage at that show:
And here’s one of my favorite SRC tunes:
Raul Malo (Died 12-9-25) From the first time I heard The Mavericks in the early ‘90s, I’ve said Raul Malo not only had a great voice — one that sounded like a Latino Roy Orbison — but he also had the greatest stage name in the music biz. Only trouble with that claim is that “Raul Malo” was not a stage name. It was real and I’m an idiot. Be that as it may, Malo and The Mavericks always put on an amazing show. Early in their career some Nashville music industry types would call them an “integrity act” — I guess as in “You want integrity? We got the Mavericks. You don’t care about shit like integrity Well, we got even more…” But while that stupid label didn’t last, The Mavericks’ music has endured for decades. And they never lost their goddamn integrity. Here’s the title track of their first album, a song for Malo’s aunt who’d been imprisoned in Castro’s Cuba for speaking out against the regime.
Jim Stringer (Died 12-15-25) Like Chris Gage, Jim Stringer was an Austin picker who was well known in local music circles, especially country music circles. He was a musician’s musician who cared about his community. And that community cared back. And like Chris Gage, I knew him through his wife — well, ex-wife, in Jim’s case. He was married to Susan Hyde Holmes, a Santa Fe musician for the past 30-some years. She recently posted on Facebook a 2005 photo of Jim joining her and Bill Hearne on stage at Greune Hall, New Braunfels, Texas. Jim was a hell of a nice guy and a double-hell of a guitarist. Here’s one of my favorite songs he did:
Joe Ely (Died 12-15-25) So many weird connections between Joe and some of the other musicians who died this year. For instance Joe died on the very same day as Jim Stringer. I’m pretty sure the last time I saw Joe perform was in September 2015, when he opened for The Mavericks at a free show on Santa Fe’s Plaza. And, like Sonny Curtis, Joe was friends with my friend, artist Paul Milosevich. Paul did Ely’s first album cover. I first met Paul when he called me up out of the blue sometime in 1981 I believe. He liked some of my music reviews in The Santa Fe Reporter and figured that I’d like Joe Ely, who I’d never heard of until then. Paul suggested we go see Ely play the old Golden Inn a few days later. So we did. Paul and I became friends and I became a Joe Ely fan. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Ely since, both in New Mexico and in Austin. I’ve seen him play with his classic rocking band with the late Jesse Taylor on guitar and Lloyd Maines on steel; I’ve seen him play with The Flatlanders (Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore); with Dutch flamenco guitarist Teya; at least twice with accordian player Joel Guzman; once at a private party during South by Southwest where he played with Doug Sahm, Rosie Flores, Rick Trevino, Ruben Ramos, (was Flaco there too?) in a song circle that spawned the Hispano Supergroup Los Super 7; and once with Terry Allen’s band at a show at the old Sweeney convention center … and every time I left the show feeling happy and energized. In probably would have eventually become an Ely fan anyway, but I’m so glad that Paul called me that day 40-plus years ago.
Happy New Year, my Flaming Spuds readers! I’ll do this bittersweet exercise again at the end of this year. I just hope the list of the departed will be much shorter.