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The master of the Tex-Mex accordion Leonardo “Flaco” Jimenez, whose tradition-drenched sound came to define conjunto or Tejano music of South Texas, has died. Throughout a career that spanned more than 70 years, he carried that sound to an international audience through his work with megastars across genres. He was 86 years old.

A statement posted by his family on Jimenez’s official Facebook page did not provide a cause of death.

“It is with great sadness that we share tonight the loss of our father, Flaco Jimenez,” the statement reads. “He was surrounded by his loved ones and will be missed immensely. Thank you to all of his fans and friends — those who cherished his music. And a big thank you for all of the memories. His legacy will live on through his music and all of his fans. The family requests privacy during this time of sadness and grievance.”

There is a scene in the legendary 1976 documentary, Chulas Fronteras, where Flaco is playing at a dancehall in South Texas. He’s wearing a fancy cowboy shirt. He’s dripping sweat. His gold teeth are flashing. He grins ecstatically while Mexican-American couples swirl across the dance floor. The fingers on right hand fly across his Hohner button accordion as he sings of the trickster gringo who stole his girl away.

At this moment in the mid-’70s, Flaco was largely unknown outside of Spanish-speaking Texas, still undiscovered by the anglo music world. He would go on to collaborate with Ry Cooder, Dr. John, the Texas Tornados and Carlos Santana, and win a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

But the essential Flaco — his nickname means skinny — never lost his roots in the rich musical traditions of Mexican Texas.

He picked up the accordion from his father, Santiago Jimenez Sr., one of the pioneers of conjunto. Don Santiago was influenced by the exuberant polkas played by German and Czech oom-pah dance bands in South and Central Texas.

“He (my dad) liked it that much that he got hold of a one-row accordion somehow and started learning how to copy the German polkas,” Flaco told NPR in 2003. “Then he started playing around the neighborhood where he lived, just local house dances.”

Flaco’s brother, Santiago Jr., is also an accordion virtuoso who learned from their father. His considerable skills were overshadowed by his superstar brother. But Flaco said he and his brother received no formal instruction. In 2014, Flaco told NPR’s Scott Simon that he taught himself without his father’s permission.

“I wanted to grab the accordion because dad is still at work. He came home early. All of a sudden he just opens the door and I said, ‘Oh man, I’m going to get it,’ ” Flaco recalled. But instead of being mad, his father was pleased. “The first thing he did, he went straight to me, he gave me a big, big hug and then started crying. See, he was so proud of my self-taught playing.”

Flaco Jimenez became the A-list Tex-Mex accordionist for any artist who wanted that west-side San Antonio baile feel in their song. From the late ’80s through the ’90s, he was popping up everywhere, recording with artists as varied as Bob Dylan, Dwight Yoakum, and the Rolling Stones.

“Flaco Jimenez brought that Tex-Mex, Mexican-American feel to the blues, to rock, to country,” said Josh Baca, another San Antonio accordionist and protégé of Flaco’s, who plays with Los Texmaniacs.

During his long life, Flaco influenced a generation of talented young accordion players with the music that he always described as alegre, happy. “When you would turn on the radio, you know, oh man, that’s Flaco!” Baca said, “You know it’s him playing the accordion. Flaco has always stayed true to his sound and to what he plays.”

He also stayed true to his hometown of San Antonio, the undisputed conjunto capital.

“In San Antonio, he is beloved and he was the greatest ambassador of conjunto music worldwide,” said Hector Saldaña, Texas music curator at the Wittliff Collections at Texas State University. “Just recently I was talking with some visitors from Germany and they were asking questions about Flaco Jimenez.”

Saldana has written that Flaco Jimenez was to San Antonio what Louis Armstrong was to New Orleans.

The master of the Tex-Mex accordion Leonardo “Flaco” Jimenez, whose tradition-drenched sound came to define conjunto or Tejano music of South Texas, has died. Throughout a career that spanned more than 70 years, he carried that sound to an international audience through his work with megastars across genres. He was 86 years old.

A statement posted by his family on Jimenez’s official Facebook page did not provide a cause of death.

“It is with great sadness that we share tonight the loss of our father, Flaco Jimenez,” the statement reads. “He was surrounded by his loved ones and will be missed immensely. Thank you to all of his fans and friends — those who cherished his music. And a big thank you for all of the memories. His legacy will live on through his music and all of his fans. The family requests privacy during this time of sadness and grievance.”

There is a scene in the legendary 1976 documentary, Chulas Fronteras, where Flaco is playing at a dancehall in South Texas. He’s wearing a fancy cowboy shirt. He’s dripping sweat. His gold teeth are flashing. He grins ecstatically while Mexican-American couples swirl across the dance floor. The fingers on right hand fly across his Hohner button accordion as he sings of the trickster gringo who stole his girl away.

At this moment in the mid-’70s, Flaco was largely unknown outside of Spanish-speaking Texas, still undiscovered by the anglo music world. He would go on to collaborate with Ry Cooder, Dr. John, the Texas Tornados and Carlos Santana, and win a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

But the essential Flaco — his nickname means skinny — never lost his roots in the rich musical traditions of Mexican Texas.

He picked up the accordion from his father, Santiago Jimenez Sr., one of the pioneers of conjunto. Don Santiago was influenced by the exuberant polkas played by German and Czech oom-pah dance bands in South and Central Texas.

“He (my dad) liked it that much that he got hold of a one-row accordion somehow and started learning how to copy the German polkas,” Flaco told NPR in 2003. “Then he started playing around the neighborhood where he lived, just local house dances.”

Flaco’s brother, Santiago Jr., is also an accordion virtuoso who learned from their father. His considerable skills were overshadowed by his superstar brother. But Flaco said he and his brother received no formal instruction. In 2014, Flaco told NPR’s Scott Simon that he taught himself without his father’s permission.

“I wanted to grab the accordion because dad is still at work. He came home early. All of a sudden he just opens the door and I said, ‘Oh man, I’m going to get it,’ ” Flaco recalled. But instead of being mad, his father was pleased. “The first thing he did, he went straight to me, he gave me a big, big hug and then started crying. See, he was so proud of my self-taught playing.”

Flaco Jimenez became the A-list Tex-Mex accordionist for any artist who wanted that west-side San Antonio baile feel in their song. From the late ’80s through the ’90s, he was popping up everywhere, recording with artists as varied as Bob Dylan, Dwight Yoakum, and the Rolling Stones.

“Flaco Jimenez brought that Tex-Mex, Mexican-American feel to the blues, to rock, to country,” said Josh Baca, another San Antonio accordionist and protégé of Flaco’s, who plays with Los Texmaniacs.

During his long life, Flaco influenced a generation of talented young accordion players with the music that he always described as alegre, happy. “When you would turn on the radio, you know, oh man, that’s Flaco!” Baca said, “You know it’s him playing the accordion. Flaco has always stayed true to his sound and to what he plays.”

He also stayed true to his hometown of San Antonio, the undisputed conjunto capital.

“In San Antonio, he is beloved and he was the greatest ambassador of conjunto music worldwide,” said Hector Saldaña, Texas music curator at the Wittliff Collections at Texas State University. “Just recently I was talking with some visitors from Germany and they were asking questions about Flaco Jimenez.”

Saldana has written that Flaco Jimenez was to San Antonio what Louis Armstrong was to New Orleans.

The master of the Tex-Mex accordion Leonardo “Flaco” Jimenez, whose tradition-drenched sound came to define conjunto or Tejano music of South Texas, has died. Throughout a career that spanned more than 70 years, he carried that sound to an international audience through his work with megastars across genres. He was 86 years old.

A statement posted by his family on Jimenez’s official Facebook page did not provide a cause of death.

“It is with great sadness that we share tonight the loss of our father, Flaco Jimenez,” the statement reads. “He was surrounded by his loved ones and will be missed immensely. Thank you to all of his fans and friends — those who cherished his music. And a big thank you for all of the memories. His legacy will live on through his music and all of his fans. The family requests privacy during this time of sadness and grievance.”

There is a scene in the legendary 1976 documentary, Chulas Fronteras, where Flaco is playing at a dancehall in South Texas. He’s wearing a fancy cowboy shirt. He’s dripping sweat. His gold teeth are flashing. He grins ecstatically while Mexican-American couples swirl across the dance floor. The fingers on right hand fly across his Hohner button accordion as he sings of the trickster gringo who stole his girl away.

At this moment in the mid-’70s, Flaco was largely unknown outside of Spanish-speaking Texas, still undiscovered by the anglo music world. He would go on to collaborate with Ry Cooder, Dr. John, the Texas Tornados and Carlos Santana, and win a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

But the essential Flaco — his nickname means skinny — never lost his roots in the rich musical traditions of Mexican Texas.

He picked up the accordion from his father, Santiago Jimenez Sr., one of the pioneers of conjunto. Don Santiago was influenced by the exuberant polkas played by German and Czech oom-pah dance bands in South and Central Texas.

“He (my dad) liked it that much that he got hold of a one-row accordion somehow and started learning how to copy the German polkas,” Flaco told NPR in 2003. “Then he started playing around the neighborhood where he lived, just local house dances.”

Flaco’s brother, Santiago Jr., is also an accordion virtuoso who learned from their father. His considerable skills were overshadowed by his superstar brother. But Flaco said he and his brother received no formal instruction. In 2014, Flaco told NPR’s Scott Simon that he taught himself without his father’s permission.

“I wanted to grab the accordion because dad is still at work. He came home early. All of a sudden he just opens the door and I said, ‘Oh man, I’m going to get it,’ ” Flaco recalled. But instead of being mad, his father was pleased. “The first thing he did, he went straight to me, he gave me a big, big hug and then started crying. See, he was so proud of my self-taught playing.”

Flaco Jimenez became the A-list Tex-Mex accordionist for any artist who wanted that west-side San Antonio baile feel in their song. From the late ’80s through the ’90s, he was popping up everywhere, recording with artists as varied as Bob Dylan, Dwight Yoakum, and the Rolling Stones.

“Flaco Jimenez brought that Tex-Mex, Mexican-American feel to the blues, to rock, to country,” said Josh Baca, another San Antonio accordionist and protégé of Flaco’s, who plays with Los Texmaniacs.

During his long life, Flaco influenced a generation of talented young accordion players with the music that he always described as alegre, happy. “When you would turn on the radio, you know, oh man, that’s Flaco!” Baca said, “You know it’s him playing the accordion. Flaco has always stayed true to his sound and to what he plays.”

He also stayed true to his hometown of San Antonio, the undisputed conjunto capital.

“In San Antonio, he is beloved and he was the greatest ambassador of conjunto music worldwide,” said Hector Saldaña, Texas music curator at the Wittliff Collections at Texas State University. “Just recently I was talking with some visitors from Germany and they were asking questions about Flaco Jimenez.”

Saldana has written that Flaco Jimenez was to San Antonio what Louis Armstrong was to New Orleans.

Similar to What If…?, Eyes of Wakanda leans hard into the fantastical and remixes pieces of the larger MCU canon in a way that makes it come across like Marvel-approved fanfiction. But the new series features much stronger visuals, and each of its four episodes tell self-contained narratives that have far more nuanced ideas about justice and morality. And after so many films and series about the multiverse, Eyes of Wakanda is a good reminder of how enjoyable Marvel’s projects can be when the studio brings its storytelling down to Earth.

While there is a certain degree of connective tissue between its episodes, Eyes of Wakanda zooms in on a series of very different, pivotal moments from the nation’s history. The series opens in the late 13th century, at a time when it is widely understood within Wakanda how important it is that outsiders remain in the dark about the kingdom’s existence.

In the wrong hands, Wakanda’s advanced technology and vast stores of vibranium could plunge the world into absolute chaos. Even though other countries are ill-equipped to take them on in battle, the Wakandans are careful about maintaining their secrecy. But they recognize the value in knowing what’s happening around the world, which is why they recruit people like Noni (Winnie Harlow), a failed Dora Milaje, to become War Dogs — operatives tasked with carrying out covert missions beyond Wakanda’s borders.

While Eyes of Wakanda frames most of its featured leads in a heroic light, it’s clear that showrunner Todd Harris is interested in using the series to interrogate the ethical implications of Wakanda’s approach to statecraft. In the earliest days of the War Dogs’ existence as an organization, they represent a very real fear of what might happen if Wakanda and its creations were discovered. A few pieces of stolen Wakandan tech are all it takes for one traitor (Cress Williams) to convince foreigners that he’s a god who has a right to enslave mortals. But as time goes on, the War Dogs’ missions to recover lost vibranium artifacts become more like self-centered quests for glory than attempts at keeping the world safe. It’s not always clear that what they’re doing is morally sound, and there are multiple instances where operatives’ emotional entanglements with outsiders come close to putting everyone in danger.

Because it’s a series about highly trained warriors, Eyes of Wakanda is a touch more brutal than Marvel’s previous Disney Plus series. The show is peppered with blood-smattered action sequences where characters are maimed and, in one notable instance, killed with an axe to the head. But there are also elements of whimsy woven throughout — especially in one episode set in Ancient Greece that unfolds like an interpolation of The Song of Achilles.

Unlike What If…?, which was focused on expanding Marvel’s multiverse, Eyes of Wakanda puts more of its energy into highlighting real pieces of African history that inspired Black Panther’s lore. There is still plenty of larger-than-life sci-fi zaniness, though, which keeps things from getting too dry. Out of all the recent animated anthology projects currently streaming, Eyes of Wakanda actually feels most like Hulu’s Predator: Killer of Killers in the way it keeps things short and sweet before bringing it all full circle. It makes for a solid bit of Marvel storytelling — the kind that the studio probably wants to make more of now that it’s trying to prioritize quality over quantity.

Eyes of Wakanda also stars Lynn Whitfield, Jona Xiao, Steve Toussaint, Anika Noni Rose, Patricia Belcher, and Gary Anthony Williams. All four episodes are now streaming on Disney Plus.