Jon Hiseman, the British drummer, composer and progressive-rock innovator who led the bands Colosseum and Tempest and played in many other groups, died early Tuesday in Sutton, England. He was 73.

His son, Marcus, said the cause was complications of surgery that Mr. Hiseman underwent in May to remove a brain tumor. He had lived in Sutton, a suburb of London, before entering hospice care there.

Mr. Hiseman was a nimble, hard-hitting player who tuned his drums melodically and kept an improvisational spirit through complex pieces. His music held elements of the classical music he grew up on, the modern jazz and free jazz he played early in his career, and the blues and rock that built his career in 1960s London.

The original Colosseum lasted barely three years, from 1968 to 1971. But the band reunited in the 1990s and continued to perform and record for two decades.

Mr. Hiseman also worked extensively with the musical theater composer Andrew Lloyd Webber. He recorded prolifically with his wife, the saxophonist and composer Barbara Thompson, and established a recording studio and a music publishing company, Temple Music.

He explained his philosophy of drumming in a 2004 interview: “Don’t play the drums, play the band. If you play the band, the drums will play themselves.”

Philip John Hiseman was born on June 21, 1944, in London. He played piano and violin as a child and turned to drums at 12. In his teens, he worked with jazz and R&B groups around London. He also studied accounting.

Mr. Hiseman became a full-time musician in 1966, when he replaced Ginger Baker in a blues band, the Graham Bond Organisation. (Mr. Baker went on to form Cream with Jack Bruce and Eric Clapton.) Mr. Hiseman later worked with the English singer and keyboardist Georgie Fame and with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, appearing on the group’s album “Bare Wires.”

As a studio musician, he performed on Mr. Bruce’s first solo albums, “Things We Like” (1968) and “Songs for a Tailor” (1969).

Mr. Hiseman married Ms. Thompson in 1967; she survives him. Besides her and his son, he is survived by a daughter, the singer Ana Gracey; a sister, Jill Hiseman; and four grandchildren.

Mr. Hiseman left the Bluesbreakers to start the jazz-rock fusion band Colosseum in 1968, with an initial lineup that included two other former Bluesbreakers, Tony Reeves on bass and Dick Heckstall-Smith on saxophone.

While Colosseum often touched down in the blues, its two 1969 albums, “Those Who Are About to Die Salute You” and “Valentyne Suite,” and its 1970 album “Daughter of Time” also drew on big-band jazz, Bach, Japanese music and contemporary chamber music. Its albums reached the Top 10 in Britain, although they received less notice in the United States. After recording “Colosseum Live” in 1971, the group disbanded.

Mr. Hiseman went on to form the progressive-rock band Tempest. Over two years and two albums, it featured the guitarists Allan Holdsworth and Ollie Halsall, who became known as musicians’ musicians.

Mr. Hiseman’s next band featured the guitarist and singer Gary Moore, who had been in (and would return to) Thin Lizzy. Although Mr. Hiseman initially called the band Ghosts, he was persuaded to use the name Colosseum II instead.

Colosseum II made three albums, releasing them in 1976 and 1977 — difficult times for progressive rock with the punk era dawning — before breaking up. Its members, joined by Ms. Thompson, became the core of the studio band for Mr. Lloyd Webber and his brother, the cellist Julian Lloyd Webber, on the 1978 classical-rock fusion album “Variations,” which became a crossover hit and supplied the theme for “The South Bank Show,” an arts series on British television.

Mr. Hiseman continued to work with Mr. Lloyd Webber well into the 1980s, in original productions and on the recordings of the musicals “Cats” and “Starlight Express” as well as Mr. Lloyd Webber’s classical work “Requiem.”

Mr. Hiseman joined his wife’s group, Paraphernalia, in 1979, and the couple recorded her jazz and classical compositions and toured through the next decades. They built a recording studio, provided music for films and advertisements, and signed other musicians to their publishing company, Temple Music.

From 1974 to 2002, Mr. Hiseman and Ms. Thompson were also part of the United Jazz + Rock Ensemble, a collective of avant-gardist German and British jazz musicians that recorded 14 albums.

In 1994, Mr. Hiseman picked up where he had left off with Colosseum’s members from 1971. Their reunion lasted until a farewell concert in 2015; Ms. Thompson took over on saxophone after the death of Mr. Heckstall-Smith in 2004.

Mr. Hiseman and Ms. Thompson both worked on albums by their daughter, Ms. Gracey, who made an appearance on Colosseum’s final album, “Time Is on Our Side.”

In April, Mr. Hiseman formed JCM, a trio with the Colosseum members Clem Clempson, on guitar, and Mark Clarke, on bass. The group made an album, “Heroes,” that contained music written by former collaborators Mr. Hiseman had outlived, among them Mr. Bruce, Mr. Holdsworth, Mr. Heckstall-Smith, Mr. Bond and Mr. Halsall.

JCM began a tour in April, but canceled it as Mr. Hiseman’s brain tumor advanced.

In his long career, Mr. Hiseman released only two albums under his own name as a leader: “A Night in the Sun,” a 1982 collaboration with Brazilian musicians, and “About Time Too!,” a 1986 collection of drum solos recorded live.

“My album is very good for parties,” Mr. Hiseman said with a laugh of “About Time Too!” in 2004, “when you want people to go.”

When George Gershwin and DuBose Heyward were writing “Summertime,” the evocative “Porgy and Bess” aria, they probably never imagined that it would one day be performed by a British pop singer known for androgynous outfits and a 71-year-old Frenchwoman with red-orange hair playing an accordion.

Yet for that woman, Yvette Horner, accompanying Boy George on “Summertime” in 1994 on the French television program “Taratata” was just one moment in a deliciously eclectic career. She played at high-end Paris fashion shows. She appeared in Maurice Béjart’s reimagining of “The Nutcracker.” She recorded with the Nashville harmonica player Charlie McCoy.

But her considerable legend was rooted in the years she spent as a distinctive part of the grand caravan that accompanies the Tour de France, the sprawling French bicycle race. For more than a decade in the 1950s and ’60s she played for the crowds from atop one vehicle or another as the caravan made its way along the tour route ahead of the cyclists.

Ms. Horner died on Monday, her agent, Jean-Pierre Brun, announced. He did not say where she died. She was 95.

After establishing herself on the tour caravan, Ms. Horner recorded scores of albums and played in countless nightclubs and concert halls. In the 1980s her career took on a new life when the fashion designer Jean Paul Gaultier essentially gave her a makeover.

Her dark hair became vivid red-orange, and Mr. Gaultier decked her out in elaborate gowns and costumes. The effect was a kitschy sort of cool.

Ms. Horner was still recording into this decade.

“I cannot do without music,” she said while promoting her album “Yvette Hors Norme” in 2012. “The bellows of my accordion is like a beating of my heart.”

Yvette Hornère was born on Sept. 22, 1922, in Tarbes, in southwestern France. Her family owned a theater, and she was exposed to music and performing from infancy.

“I was born during a rehearsal,” she told Paris Match in 1989. “If I did not have my bottle with a ballad, I did not drink it.”

By age 4 she was taking piano lessons. She first encountered the accordion when the family took a trip to Argelès-sur-Mer, in the South of France; an accordionist in a casino there showed her how to play the instrument.

In 1948, in Switzerland, she won the top prize at an international accordion competition, and in 1952, at the suggestion of her husband, René Droesch, she made her first of 11 rides in the caravan — a raucous event that, for many spectators, was more interesting than the bicycle race.

“It includes publicity vans, trick motor scooter acts and trucks blaring commercials,” a 1959 article in The New York Times explained, noting that the caravan that year was more than 30 miles long. “With something like 15,000,000 fans lining the roads, the publicity caravan has an audience greater than any national magazine or television broadcast.”

The caravan was certainly good for the young accordionist, who had adopted the name Horner in her early 20s, thinking it might be more commercial. But the hours under the sun took a toll on her skin: She said she was constantly sunburned. One year, someone advised her to smear fat on her face and lips.

“I noticed that everyone was pointing at me and laughing,” she told the newspaper La Dépêche in 2015. “I then looked in the rearview mirror of a car and I understood. I had plenty of mosquitoes stuck on my face.”

Good accordion playing, she once said, was a matter not of reading sheet music but of having “a palette of colors, sounds.” Her musical palette was expansive. Her numerous albums — more than 150, by some counts — delved into Spanish music, pop, rock, rap, jazz, American country and more.

A few years after her husband’s death in the mid-1980s, Ms. Horner found a renewed sense of adventurousness. Mr. Gaultier, who designed outfits for many celebrities, created some attention-getting ones for her. He also featured her music at runway shows.

In 1998, when Mr. Béjart, the choreographer, created a version of “The Nutcracker,” Ms. Horner turned up as an accordion-playing fairy godmother. One critic, Patricia Boccadoro, sounded dubious as to whether Ms. Horner enhanced the efforts of the orchestra musicians.

“As the evening wore on,” she wrote on culturekiosque.com of a 2000 performance in Paris, “they were joined by an aging music hall accordionist, Yvette Horner, bedecked in Jean Paul Gaultier, whose additions to Tchaikovsky’s music were worthy of a cheery public house in the north of England.”

Information on Ms. Horner’s survivors was not immediately available.

Ms. Horner seemed to embrace her unusual celebrity, but she said she did not set out to make a career of playing the accordion; rather, the career found her.

“I played with love,” she said, “and the rest followed.”

Jahseh Onfroy, the rapper and singer known as XXXTentacion, whose surge in popularity in the last year and a half — including a No. 1 album — came as he was facing accusations of violent crimes against a woman, was shot and killed outside a motor sports store in Deerfield Beach, Fla., on Monday afternoon. He was 20.

The Broward Sheriff’s Office confirmed the victim was Mr. Onfroy. Videos taken at the scene on Monday and shared on social media showed the rapper’s slumped body in the driver’s seat of a black BMW sports car as a bystander attempted to take his pulse. TMZ first reported the news of the shooting.

Mr. Onfroy had been approached by two armed suspects shortly before 4 p.m., in what appeared to be a robbery, the sheriff’s office said. At least one of the suspects fired a gun and struck the rapper before fleeing in a dark-colored S.U.V. Mr. Onfroy was transported to a local hospital. Just after 5:30 p.m., the authorities said that he had been pronounced dead.

[A suspect has been arrested in the killing of XXXTentacion: read more here.]

In the last 18 months, XXXTentacion quickly became one of popular music’s most controversial and, in some circles, reviled figures. In early 2017, “Look at Me!” — a bratty, caustic, distorted song — became the first breakthrough hit of the SoundCloud rap movement. But at the time it was soaring in popularity, XXXTentacion was in jail following his arrest on charges including aggravated battery of a pregnant victim and false imprisonment. By the time he was released from jail in March of last year, “Look at Me!” was climbing the Billboard Hot 100; a month later, it would peak at No. 34, cementing the rapper’s place as a disrupter whose serious personal issues only led to more attention and, for some, shored up his outlaw mystique.

Mr. Onfroy was born on Jan. 23, 1998, in Plantation, Fla. He was raised primarily by his grandmother, and had multiple scuffles with the law. In 2013, he began recording and releasing music in earnest following a stint in a juvenile detention center. Over the next two years, he self-released several projects, both as a solo artist and also as a member of the Members Only collective.

[Hero or villain? The death of XXXTentacion divides the internet.]

Sonically, his music was foundational to the rowdy, genre-crashing approach that’s become popular on the music streaming service SoundCloud over the past three years. Of the artists who got their start in that scene, he was one of the most commercially successful. His debut album, “17,” was released last August, and has been certified gold. In March, he released his second album, “?,” which made its debut at No. 1 on the Billboard album chart.

At the time of his death, Mr. Onfroy was awaiting trial on charges of battery, false imprisonment and witness tampering. He pleaded not guilty.

In a deposition ahead of the trial, as well as an interview earlier this month, Mr. Onfroy’s onetime girlfriend said she was a victim of frequent domestic abuse from him. “His favorite thing was to just backhand my mouth,” she told the Miami New Times. “That always left welts inside my lips.”

She said the violence culminated in an attack in October 2016, while she was pregnant, during which Mr. Onfroy punched, strangled, kicked and head-butted her. She said Mr. Onfroy then took her cellphone and moved her to an associate’s home for two days before she escaped.

Mr. Onfroy was arrested the next morning and ultimately charged with aggravated battery of a pregnant victim, domestic battery by strangulation, false imprisonment and witness tampering.

Roger Gengo, the proprietor of the website Masked Gorilla, which chronicles the SoundCloud scene, said that XXXTentacion was both an early beacon for this burgeoning brand of underground hip-hop, and its most polarizing figure.

[Read more about SoundCloud rap.]

“It was always this internal struggle for me — he’s so popular and shedding light on this scene, but he’s been accused of these terrible things,” Mr. Gengo said. “Taking into account what he’d been accused of doing, his music was still incredibly authentic. His true self bleeds through into his lyrics and his music.”

Mr. Gengo added, “Wanting somebody to be held accountable for their actions doesn’t mean you want them to be killed in the street.”

The divisive terms of XXXTentacion’s rise only seemed to embolden his devoted followers. “Kids just represented for him so strongly,” Mr. Gengo said. “They wanted to defend him and to believe that the allegations aren’t true. That builds the strongest fan base.”

XXXTentacion rarely gave interviews, but he often used social media to communicate directly to his fans. In a video posted to Instagram’s live feature, he spoke about what he hoped his impact would be: “If I’m going to die or ever be a sacrifice, I want to make sure that my life made at least five million kids happy, or they found some sort of answers or resolve in my life, regardless of the negative around my name, regardless of the bad things people say to me.”

XXXTentacion was also at the center of an industry uproar last month when Spotify, the leading music streaming service, said it would stop promoting artists whose real-life conduct it found to be “hateful.” Along with R. Kelly, who has faced decades of allegations regarding sexual abuse, Spotify cited XXXTentacion as someone whose songs would be removed from the company’s influential playlists.

But following a backlash that included Kendrick Lamar’s label TDE, which called censorship a “super sensitive topic,” Spotify rescinded the policy three weeks later and restored XXXTentacion’s hit “Sad!” to its prominent placement on the playlists. “Sad!”, with its deceptively bouncy chorus about suicide, has been streamed more than 270 million times on the service (and another 174 million on YouTube) and currently sits at No. 51 on the Billboard Hot 100 after peaking in the Top 10 earlier this year.

Mr. Lamar was one of many older, establishment artists who expressed admiration for XXXTentacion’s music despite his charges. “listen to this album if you feel anything,” Mr. Lamar wrote on Twitter last year. “raw thoughts.”

Following news of XXXTentacion’s death, the rapper J. Cole wrote on Twitter: “Enormous talent and limitless potential and a strong desire to be a better person. God bless his family, friends and fans.”

Matt (Guitar) Murphy, a master bluesman who played with Howlin’ Wolf, Etta James, Chuck Berry and Memphis Slim but was best known as a member of the Blues Brothers band, died on Friday in Miami. He was 88.

The cause was a heart attack, his wife, Kathy Hemrick, said.

Mr. Murphy began his career in Memphis before moving in the 1950s to Chicago, which was then at the epicenter of a new kind of hard-driving, heavily electrified blues. His harmonically sophisticated, jazz-inflected guitar playing established him as a mainstay of the Chicago scene, and a true original.

Reviewing a 1982 performance in which Mr. Murphy played mostly other musicians’ songs, Rafael Alvarez of The Baltimore Sun wrote, “The blunt affection for the wide, wide range of musical styles Murphy offers will make you forget the original discs.”

Mr. Murphy’s talent came to the attention of John Belushi and the keyboardist Paul Shaffer in 1978 as they searched to recruit musicians for the band that Mr. Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, both stars of “Saturday Night Live” at the time, planned to take on tour as the Blues Brothers.

They had asked the songwriter Doc Pomus for help. “He was known as a guru figure,” Mr. Shaffer said in a telephone interview.

Mr. Shaffer and Mr. Belushi had paid a visit to Mr. Pomus at Kenny’s Castaways, a music club in Greenwich Village.

“We explained our project and he said, ‘You need Matt Murphy,’ ” Mr. Shaffer said. “I didn’t know his history and asked Doc, ‘Is he legit? Is he one of the real Chicago guys?’ He said, ‘Yes,’ and based on that we hired him.”

(Mr. Murphy told a different story: that he was spotted by Mr. Belushi and Mr. Aykroyd while playing at another Manhattan club.)

The band — whose other members included Mr. Shaffer, Lou Marini on tenor saxophone, Steve Jordan on drums, Duck Dunn on bass and Steve Cropper on guitar — recorded an album, “Briefcase Full of Blues,” at the Universal Amphitheater in Los Angeles in 1978. They subsequently appeared on “S.N.L.,” went on tour and made a movie.

The hit 1980 film “The Blues Brothers,” directed by John Landis, told the fictionalized story of Jake and Elwood Blues’s quest to get their band back together. In the film, Mr. Murphy’s character — also named Matt Murphy — owns a soul food restaurant with his wife, played by Aretha Franklin. At one point she angrily warns him not to leave for the road by singing her 1968 hit “Think.” But Mr. Murphy removes his apron, picks up his guitar and tells the brothers, “Let’s boogie.”

Mr. Murphy continued to perform with the band and appeared in “Blues Brothers 2000,” Mr. Landis’s 1998 sequel.

Although Mr. Murphy had been performing since the late 1940s, Mr. Belushi and Mr. Aykroyd “definitely put me in business,” he told the guitarist Tom Guerra in an interview on the website of his band, Mambo Sons.

Matthew Tyler Murphy was born on Dec. 28, 1929, in Sunflower, Miss., to Daniel and Lizzie Murphy. His mother died when he was a youngster, and he and his siblings moved to Memphis, where his father was a porter at the famed Peabody Hotel.

Mr. Murphy nurtured his love of guitar playing by listening to records by T-Bone Walker, Blind Boy Fuller and others. But his musical influences also included the jazz saxophonists Stan Getz and John Coltrane.

In Memphis, he played with Howlin’ Wolf, the blues pianist and singer Memphis Slim and the bandleader Tuff Green. Memphis “was one of these hot spots where cats could come from everywhere else and get the surprise of their life because there were so many good musicians there,” Mr. Murphy told Mr. Guerra.

Nonetheless, he soon left for the even more fertile musical turf of Chicago. He became a staff guitarist at Chess Records with the help of the bassist Willie Dixon, which led to many years of session work. Mr. Murphy recorded with Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters and Sonny Boy Williamson.

In 1963, he electrified European audiences with his performance of “Matt’s Guitar Boogie,” backed by Mr. Dixon, Memphis Slim and the drummer Billy Stepney, on the American Folk Blues Festival tour.

In the early 1970s, Mr. Murphy joined the harmonica player James Cotton’s band. The group’s 1974 album, “100% Cotton,” included two songs written by Mr. Murphy.

Mr. Murphy formed his own band in the 1980s and recorded three albums as a leader between 1990 and 2000. One of his sidemen on the 1990 album “Way Down South” was his brother Floyd Sr., an accomplished guitarist in his own right who played with Little Junior Parker, Big Mama Thornton and Rufus Thomas.

Baron Raymonde, a saxophonist in Mr. Murphy’s band, said that Mr. Murphy was always looking to improve his playing. “He would sleep with his guitar,” Mr. Raymonde said in a telephone interview. “He’d practice before he went to sleep and sometimes wake me up at 4 a.m. and say, ‘Listen to this.’ ”

Mr. Murphy had a small stroke during a performance around 2001 — he was treated by paramedics but did not go to the hospital — and a more severe one a year or so later. He underwent extensive physical therapy and retired, but he resumed performing at the 2010 Chicago Blues Festival with Mr. Cotton (who died last year).

In its review of that show, the Chicago Blues Guide wrote, “Although both men have suffered major health problems in the past, both were back in virtuoso form that night, storming though lively numbers like ‘Rocket 88,’ danceable jump blues, Chicago blues and some Wolf songs.”

Mr. Murphy continued to perform, making one appearance at Eric Clapton’s Crossroads Guitar Festival at Madison Square Garden in 2013. His wife said he had been planning a new recording.

In addition to her, his survivors include two sons, Melvin and Christopher.

Frances Walker-Slocum, who overcame childhood burns that left her arm impaired to become a pioneering classical pianist and the first black female tenured professor at Oberlin College and Conservatory, died on June 9 in Oberlin, Ohio. She was 94.

Her death was announced by Oberlin, where she had taught from 1976 until she retired in 1991 and was named a professor emerita.

“Miss Walker’s playing has sweep and impetuosity,” John Briggs wrote in The New York Times in a review of her debut concert at Carnegie Recital Hall in Manhattan in 1959, which included works by Liszt, Rachmaninoff and Chopin. She was known professionally as Frances Walker at the time.

“She proved well able to do justice to the big virtuoso pieces on her program,” Mr. Briggs added. “It was an impressive first appearance by a young pianist of considerable talent.”

Her performance at a bicentennial concert at Oberlin in 1976 was so impressive that she was immediately hired to teach there. She became an champion of black composers, including Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Scott Joplin and William Grant Still, and waged a continuing campaign for gender pay equality among the faculty.

Peter Takacs, a music professor at Oberlin, said in a statement that Professor Walker-Slocum’s “deep, noble, unhurried” interpretations of all music, but especially Brahms and Liszt, imbued the works she played with even deeper profundity.

The younger sister of George Walker, who in 1996 became the first black classical composer to win the Pulitzer Prize for music, Professor Walker-Slocum was not only an accomplished pianist but also a popular teacher, at Tougaloo College in Mississippi, the Third Street Settlement School in Manhattan, Lincoln University in Pennsylvania, Rutgers University in New Jersey and Oberlin, where she rose to chairwoman of the piano department.

“Ms. Walker was a tough teacher, but one who knew how to tap into every student’s motivation,” said Lee Koonce, a senior adviser to the dean of the Eastman School of Music in Rochester and a former student.

Frances Walker was born on March 6, 1924, in Washington, the granddaughter of a slave and the daughter of Dr. George Walker, an immigrant from Jamaica, and Rosa (King) Walker, who worked for the Government Printing Office. Dr. Walker had studied at Temple University; when the couple moved to Washington, their first major purchase was a piano.

When Frances was 5, about the time she grudgingly began piano lessons, her dress caught fire as she was playing with matches.

She was taken to the emergency room of Freedmen’s Hospital, Washington’s only hospital for blacks at the time. She was in a coma, and her right arm was severely burned. Hospitalized for a year, Frances underwent several operations, but her right arm remained shorter and weaker than her left, its movement impaired. That meant that later on she struggled to perform more challenging works, she said.

“I felt sorry for myself and at the same time guilty for all the trouble I had caused,” Professor Walker-Slocum wrote in her memoir, “A Miraculous Journey” (2006). “I was constantly in fear of dying.”

But while attending Dunbar High School, she began private piano lessons and also studied piano at the junior division of Howard University’s music department.

“The arts build moral strength and all kinds of inner strength,” she said.

She enrolled in Oberlin, which she described as “a vanguard in those days” as the only institution where a black woman could earn an undergraduate degree in music. She graduated in 1945.

She met Henry Chester Slocum Jr., a white Oberlin alumnus, in Mississippi. They got married in New York City because interracial marriage was banned in Mississippi. But even living in Astoria, Queens, she said, they were subjected to bigotry.

Mr. Slocum died in 1980. Professor Walker-Slocum is survived by their son, Jeffrey Slocum; her brother; a granddaughter; and two great-granddaughters.

She received a master’s degree from Teachers College, Columbia University, and a professional diploma for completing the credits for a doctorate.

Her career soared after she expanded her classical repertoire in 1975 with a performance at Carnegie Recital Hall, “Bicentennial Program: The Music of Black American Composers.”

“I did it in ’75 because all these people were coming out with firsts,” Professor Walker-Slocum recalled in a 1992 interview. “ I didn’t want anybody to come out with music of black composers for piano and do it before I did.”

In reviewing that concert for The Times, Donal Henahan called her “a solid technician and an artist of invariable restraint.”

“We hear a lot nowadays about ‘black music,’ ” he observed, “and there certainly are works that legitimately qualify as such. But there is, and has been for several centuries, music by black composers that need not be put into any racial pigeonhole. Black-influenced, yes; but black in a narrow sense, no.”

She was subsequently invited to play at Oberlin, where, after her concert, she was recruited on the spot to teach the next semester.

She later performed at Lincoln Center, Town Hall and the Brooklyn Museum in New York; at the National Gallery and the Kennedy Center in Washington; in radio recitals on WNYC and WQXR in New York; and on tours of Europe.

Ms. Walker-Slocum stopped playing about 20 years ago, her son said, after she developed rheumatoid arthritis in her hands.

Rebecca Parris, a husky-voiced jazz singer known for both her blistering scat runs and her deeply affecting interpretations of ballads, died on June 17 in South Yarmouth, Mass. She was 66.

Her death was confirmed by her daughter, Marla Kleman, who said Ms. Parris had collapsed after a performance and was taken to Cape Cod Hospital, where she died. No cause was given, but Ms. Kleman said Ms. Parris’s health had been declining since 2004, when she had a heart attack and developed severe osteoporosis.

Ms. Parris was hailed by local journalists as “Boston’s first lady of jazz,” but over a four-decade career she also earned the respect of the jazz world at large, playing with luminaries like Dizzy Gillespie, Gary Burton and Buddy Rich. She performed at the Monterey Jazz Festival, the Blue Note in Greenwich Village, the Apollo Theater in Harlem and Tanglewood. She recorded 10 albums and was praised by some of her vocal heroes, including Sarah Vaughan and Carmen McRae.

“Her voice, a rich contralto with a baritone resonance, is so commanding that when a song’s attitude is combative, she can scare you,” Stephen Holden wrote in The New York Times in 2007, reviewing her performance at Birdland. “But when the mood is playful, she can also enfold you in a musical bear hug.”

It took Ms. Parris many years to find her footing as a jazz singer. She attended the Boston Conservatory to study opera, but dropped out and went to New York to pursue a career in musical theater. When she failed to land any significant parts, she went back to Boston and sang in a Top 40 cover band for a decade.

She saw a new path forward after sitting in on a few jazz gigs in Boston.

“It was like manna from heaven for me: lyrics and chord changes and sensible whole thoughts and beautiful ideas,” she said in 2008 when she appeared on the NPR show “Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz.”

Her wrenching ballad performances and suave renditions of bossa nova standards earned her glowing reviews, increasingly prestigious bookings and the admiration of her colleagues. Her performance at the 1992 Floating Jazz Festival, a cruise across the Caribbean, caught the eye of Mr. Burton, the acclaimed vibraphonist. They recorded an album together, “It’s Another Day,” in 1993.

“She was very musical and had excellent taste in songs,” Mr. Burton said in a telephone interview. “She was underappreciated and underacknowledged.”

Rebecca Parris was born Ruth Blair MacCloskey on Dec. 28, 1951, in Needham, Mass., the youngest of three sisters. Her parents, Shirley Robinson and Ned MacCloskey, were both accomplished pianists; her father also taught English at Boston University. She grew up in Newton, Mass., and went to Newton South High School.

She took the stage name Rebecca Parris in the 1980s (the last name was inspired by the Cole Porter standard “I Love Paris”). She met the pianist Paul McWilliams in 1984 at a gig in Massachusetts, and the two remained partners until her death. Ms. Parris also adopted Ms. Kleman in 1997. In addition to Mr. McWilliams and Ms. Kleman, she is survived by her sister, Susan MacCloskey. Her marriage to Robert DeGrassie ended in divorce.

Ms. Parris settled down with Mr. McWilliams and Ms. Kleman in Duxbury, Mass., a suburb of Boston, and regularly packed local haunts like Regattabar and Scullers. She also taught private lessons and master classes.

Her osteoporosis caused her to lose six inches off her commanding height of six feet and required her to use crutches. But she never stopped performing.

She gave her last performance on a recent Sunday, sitting in with a trio that included Mr. McWilliams at the Riverway Lobster House in South Yarmouth. She sang two songs, “Old Devil Moon” and “There Will Never Be Another You,” on which she took an a cappella chorus.

“She sounded excellent,” Mr. McWilliams said of the performance. “When the band came back in, she was in perfect tune.”

Vinnie Paul, a drummer and a founder of the heavy metal band Pantera, which helped transform the genre in the 1990s, died on Friday at his home in Las Vegas. He was 54.

Kimberly Zide Davis, the band’s manager, confirmed the death. She did not specify the cause.

Pantera was founded in 1981 and rose to prominence in the 1990s, embracing sharper, deeper grooves and harder-edged sounds that pushed heavy metal into an even heavier direction.

The music achieved widespread popularity at a time, after the 1980s, when metal was declining, said Ian Christe, the host of a weekly show on Sirius XM Satellite Radio about the history of heavy metal and the author of “Sound of the Beast: The Complete Headbanging History of Heavy Metal” (2003).

“As a drummer in a larger-than-life band, he was totally capable of hitting hard and rumbling thunder, and hitting every single drum at once,” Mr. Christe said of Mr. Paul. “He was a veteran — he was a rock-and-roller from the old school.”

Pantera drew a large following by being “down to earth,” Mr. Christe said.

“They had that kind of connection to their fans, by releasing home videos that just showed them horsing around, pouring beer on each others’ heads and partying and being wild,” he said.

Ms. Davis said Mr. Paul would invite fans to his home and cook large dinners of lobster, shrimp and steak. Food was Mr. Paul’s second passion after music, she said.

After its first album with the new sound, “Cowboys From Hell,” in 1990, Pantera found popularity with “Vulgar Display of Power” in 1992, an album widely considered its masterwork. In 1994, the group entered the Billboard chart at No. 1 with the album “Far Beyond Driven,” which sold 1.4 million copies in the United States.

Pantera disbanded after releasing the album “Reinventing the Steel” in 2000, and the lead singer, Phil Anselmo, formed a new band called Superjoint Ritual. In 2003, Mr. Paul, whose real name was Vincent P. Abbott, and his brother Darrell, known as Dimebag Darrell, started a group called Damageplan.

Damageplan released its debut album in February 2004; at a show promoting it in Columbus, Ohio, that December, Darrell Abbott was fatally shot onstage. A gunman, who was identified as Nathan M. Gale, a former Marine, stormed the stage just minutes into the band’s performance in front of a crowd of about 250 people. Three other people were also killed.

Damageplan dissolved shortly after the shooting, and Mr. Paul went on to play with a metal supergroup, Hellyeah, made up of metal stars from other groups. The band released five albums between 2007 and 2016. In an interview in October, Mr. Paul said the group was making plans to record a new LP.

At his death, Mr. Paul was in Las Vegas recording Hellyeah’s forthcoming album, said Karissa Vassallo, a publicist with the band’s record label, Eleven Seven Music.

Vincent Paul Abbott was born in Abilene, Tex. His father, Jerry Abbott, was a country songwriter and survives him. Mr. Paul is also survived by his girlfriend, Chelsey Yeager, Ms. Vassallo said.

In a 2016 interview with Metal Hammer magazine, Mr. Paul said he started playing drums when he was 14. His brother opted for a guitar, and the two of them continued to make music together until Darrell Abbott’s death in 2004.

Mr. Paul said in the interview that music was “always around the house,” and after hearing 1970s metal records like Kiss’s “Alive!” and Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever,” he was hooked.