The country music world is mourning the loss of one of its most colorful and beloved figures, Richard “Kinky” Friedman, who passed away at the age of 79 in late June. Known as much for his biting wit as his twangy ballads, Friedman died at his cherished home, Echo Hill Ranch in Medina, Texas, surrounded by family and close friends.
The news of his passing was confirmed in a heartfelt message shared to social media on Thursday, June 27, which read:
“How hard can it be?”
A Life Larger Than Lyrics
Friedman, a country music satirist, author, and political provocateur, carved out a space that was uniquely his own. His early music career took off in the 1970s with the formation of his band, Kinky Friedman and The Texas Jewboys, a group known for their irreverent, controversial, and often hilarious lyrics. Their breakout tracks—“They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore” and “Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed”—became underground classics, blending humor with sharp social commentary.
Though the band didn’t last long, Friedman wasn’t finished. In 1974, he released a solo album, and in a moment that solidified his credibility beyond satire, joined Bob Dylan on tour for two years, exposing his work to a wider audience.
Over the course of his career, Friedman released 18 albums, his last being Circus of Life in 2018. But his creativity didn’t stop at music—he wrote dozens of mystery novels, often casting himself as the main character in his quirky detective stories, and was a regular columnist and cultural commentator.
A Voice in Politics and Beyond
Beyond music and books, Kinky Friedman became an unlikely political figure in Texas. In 2006, he made a spirited bid for governor, running as an independent against Rick Perry. His campaign was unconventional, to say the least, and included lines like:
“How hard can it be?”
Though he ultimately finished fourth, the race brought renewed attention to third-party politics in Texas and spotlighted issues like education and the criminal justice system.
He later attempted runs for agriculture commissioner in 2010 and again in 2014, this time as a Democrat, but was again unsuccessful. Still, he remained a fixture in public discourse, beloved for his candor and contrarian charm.
Remembering the Kinkster
Friedman had faced health struggles in recent years, including a battle with Parkinson’s disease, as confirmed by his longtime friend and fellow Texan, Clive Hattersley, who remembered him fondly:
“He was a communicator. An unusual, but very pointed and poignant communicator. He could bring you to tears on stage. He could make you roll on the floor in laughter.”
Despite the physical toll of his illness, Friedman continued to write, perform, and advocate for causes he cared deeply about, including veterans’ rights and animal welfare.
“He was never afraid to say what others wouldn’t,” Hattersley added. “That’s what made him Kinky.”
Friedman’s home, Echo Hill Ranch, had long served as a sanctuary for at-risk youth and a center for his philanthropic endeavors. The same ranch became his final resting place—a poetic and fitting goodbye to a man who spent his life in the heart of Texas, challenging conventions and building connections through humor, music, and stories.
Legacy of a True Original
Whether you knew him as the cigar-smoking troubadour, the mystery novel sleuth, the governor hopeful, or simply as “Kinky,” Richard Friedman left a mark that few could replicate.
His voice—sometimes crooning, sometimes snarling—was always unmistakably his. And though he’s no longer with us, the echoes of his songs, jokes, and wild political dreams will linger in Texas barrooms and beyond for years to come.
Rest in peace, Kinkster. You rode your rainbow home.
