Kinky Friedman, provocative musician, author and former politician, dies at 79

Kinky Friedman, satirical and often provocative musician, author and former politician, has died at the age of 79.

“Kinky Friedman walked on a rainbow on his beloved Echo Hill, surrounded by family and friends,” we can read on his social media. “Kinkster has endured enormous suffering and unthinkable loss in recent years, but he never lost his fighting spirit and quick wit. Kinky will live on as her books are read and her songs sung.

Throughout his career, Richard Samet “Kinky” Friedman has developed a cult following for his unique and offbeat approach to country and western music. The self-proclaimed “Governor of the Heart of Texas” has released a slew of albums, starting with 1973’s “Sold American,” often considered his seminal record, and in addition to touring with Bob Dylan on his “Rolling Thunder Revue “, he became the “first full-blooded Jew” to appear at the Grand Ole Opry.

Outside of his musical career, Friedman was a prolific writer, writing crime novels and serving as a columnist for Texas Monthly. He entered politics and ran for governor of Texas in 2006 with campaign slogans such as “My governor is a Jewish cowboy.” In the end, he received 12.6 percent of the votes among six candidates.

Born in Chicago, Friedman grew up in Texas and attended the University of Texas at Austin to study psychology. An interest in music led him to form King Arthur & the Carrots, followed by Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, whom he described as a “country band with a social conscience, a demented love child of Lenny Bruce and Bob Wills. The group sparked controversy with songs like “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore” and “Ride ‘Em Jewboy.”

When his music career declined in the 1980s, Friedman turned to novelist and writer, publishing “Elvis, Jesus and Coca-Cola: A Novel” in 1994 and “Kinky Friedman’s Guide to Texas Etiquette” in 2004: Or How to Get to Heaven or Hell Without Going Through Dallas-Fort Worth.”

Along with his sister Marcie, he helped run the Echo Hill Gold Star camp for children. Kent Perkins, a longtime friend of Friedman, remembered him in a post on his social media.

“Somewhere in heaven,” he wrote, “I’m sure there’s a quiet corner with a big armchair, a bright floor lamp, a big stack of biographical books, and a few old dogs wagging their tails at the faint smell of cigar smoke.”