Jaki Liebezeit, regarded by many reasonable people as the greatest rock drummer ever and best known for his phenomenally complex and funky work for German progressive-rock legends Can, passed away January 22 from pneumonia. He was 78.

Liebezeit came up in the ’60s-era European free-jazz scene, playing with German trumpeter Manfred Schoof’s quintet before he joined Can in 1968. Over 14 albums, the almost inhumanly precise drummer helped guide the revered krautrock group to the summits of improvisational rock creativity. In a band composed of master musicians like guitarist Michael Karoli, keyboardist Irmin Schmidt, and bassist Holger Czukay, Liebezeit was perhaps the most impressive.

Besides his sublime rhythmic chops in Can, Liebezeit also played on Brian Eno’s “Backwater” (from 1977 LP Before and After Science) and Depeche Mode's Ultra; contributed to several solo LPs by Neu!/Harmonia guitarist Michael Rother and Can members Damo Suzuki and Czukay; led The Phantom Band; helped out PiL bassist Jah Wobble; and in his later years, kept beats for Drums Off Chaos and Club Off Chaos (both with German producer Burnt Friedman), and in Cyclopean.

Among the hundreds of thousands of rock drummers over the last 60-plus years, Jaki had the most distinctive touch of anyone I’ve ever heard; you can discern a Liebezeit snare or tom hit or kick drum in a split second, and that’s a special trait in any musician—especially in a drummer. He was metronomic yet limber. He could shame a drum machine’s timing or get as intricately funky as the Meters’ Zigaboo Modeliste; check out “Halleluhwah,” “I’m So Green,” “Soul Desert,” “Turtles Have Short Legs,” or the breakdancer anthem “Vitamin C” for proof.

Liebezeit wasn’t the most powerful percussionist, but he didn’t need to be in Can. Instead, he kept time with an almost levitational, skittery feel as exemplified by the aquatic, seemingly amorphous epics on Future Days, or the proto-techno workouts on Soon Over Babaluma—especially “Chain Reaction”. (Where the German dub-techno label got its name? Probably.) Check out the concatenating motorik tattoos and kettle-drum explosions he pounds out on the 14-minute “Mother Sky,” which must’ve made Klaus Dinger sweat with envy; or the manic, psychedelic cha-cha of “Splash,” which sounds like the Grateful Dead’s “King Solomon’s Marbles,” but with only one drummer. Jaki was also adept at dub maneuvers as evidenced by Can’s “Flow Motion” and the track “Full Circle” with Czukay and Wobble, to name a few. And if you know of another rock drummer who can replicate the staggering, staccato funk that’s tumbling asymmetrically, yet on the one in “Aspectacle,” please bring them to my attention.

It was clear even before social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook confirmed it that Jaki Liebezeit had a massive influence on musicians and also excited serious music fans of many stripes with a rare fervor. So much reverence and awe has issued forth since the news of his passing, and all of it is deserved. For many, losing Liebezeit hurts as much as the deaths of Prince and David Bowie. Thankfully, one could spend a fruitful lifetime listening to Liebezeit’s many recordings and never quite figure out how he manifested such febrile yet cerebral beat science.

I had the good fortune to interview Can for Alternative Press when the remix album Sacrilege came out in 1997. Jaki didn’t talk much then, but he radiated a sage, Teutonic, Leonard Cohen vibe. He seemed like a friendly dude, but Schmidt and Karoli dominated the conversation. In Mute Records' New York City office, Liebezeit hung back, just like he did onstage with Can, but you felt his presence, deeply. RIP, Jaki Liebezeit.