James Carter, 61, drummer with Motown, local bands

The self-taught virtuoso drummer died at his home in West Roxbury on Sept. 5, eight days before his 62d birthday. He had suffered from cancer.

Mr. Carter, known to friends and loved ones as Snookie, was born in Boston and graduated from Boston Technical High School in 1965.

Even before his high school graduation, Mr. Carter had secured his first studio recording gig, drumming at age 17 for the Goldberg-Miller Blues Band.

He developed his skills playing with local bands, his initial interest in percussion sparked after seeing the 1959 film “The Gene Krupa Story,’’ which chronicled the legendary jazz drummer’s life. Earning money from various after-school jobs, Mr. Carter saved up to buy a used drum set and taught himself to play, mastering the craft.

“Without a doubt, he was one of the most phenomenal drummers I ever had the opportunity to meet,’’ recalled Ron Downs of Milton, a bass player who jammed with Mr. Carter during the 1960s at the Midway Café in Jamaica Plain. “He was a natural; it was in his blood.’’

Downs recalled helping Mr. Carter take his equipment to a gig, for which he forgot to pack drumsticks.

“He asked the cook for a wooden salad spoon and fork. He used them to drum, and he was fantastic! The people in the place went crazy.’’

By late 1965, he had enlisted in the Air Force. While stationed in Amarillo, Texas, Mr. Carter was hired as drummer for rock ’n’ roll artist Johnny Rivers. He also did a stint with a rock-soul band called the Untouchables while in Vietnam. During the war, he got the opportunity that family and friends said Mr. Carter held as one of the highlights of his career: sitting in for James Brown’s drummer when the soul singer performed for troops in Da Nang in the 1960s.

Mr. Carter was stationed in San Francisco by 1967. About the same time, the psychedelic rock era began. Highly influenced by its surreal, dreamy sound, he sat in and recorded with such icons of the genre as Moby Grape, Cream, and Jefferson Airplane, and with Psychedelic Funk pioneer George Clinton. During this time, he earned the title among colleagues of “groove-master,’’ family and friends said.

With an honorable discharge from the Air Force in 1968 and the bolstered passion for music, Mr. Carter returned to Boston, determined to make music his life’s work. Drumming rhythms was second nature to him, recalled relatives, who said he once inadvertently wore out the arm of his sister’s sofa, relentlessly rapping it like an instrument of percussion.

Although he felt he suffered the discrimination and lack of recognition seen by many black veterans, he was resourceful enough to find a job as a building services worker at Jewish Memorial Hospital. He later spent a short time as a laborer at the Boston Blueprint Co. His music gigs filled every spare moment.

Recognized as much for his sharp wit as for his precision drumming, Mr. Carter easily landed a full-time gig in the early 1970s, playing with Ralph Graham and the Jet Sets, the house band at Boston’s popular Sugar Shack. The group opened for a roster of classic Motown artists, including Stevie Wonder and Martha and the Vandellas. The acts often tapped Mr. Carter as the stand-in drummer for their performances.

“He was a great, great percussionist,’’ said family friend Jack Harte of Auburn. “I will always be amazed at how big a sound he could make, all the while making it look like it was the easiest thing in the world.’’

Mr. Carter’s career also took him to popular Boston-area venues such as the Roxy, the Regent, the Royal Sonesta Hotel, and the House of Blues. Along the way, the music that had inspired him since his childhood was as much a source of peace and healing to him, as it was entertainment to the crowds that heard him play.

Drumming “was therapeutic for him,’’ Downs said. “He lived to play. . . . It was an outlet, a challenge, and a wonderful experience.’’

“Snookie suffered from a lot of physical ailments, but he could always get [out] there and play, even through pain and discomfort,’’ said Randy Moore of Dorchester, a singer in the Boston-area quartet Joyful, for which Mr. Carter played for more than 15 years.

“Shortly before he died, Snookie couldn’t even walk,’’ Moore recalled. “But he asked me to take him to play a gig. He said, ‘I’ve got to play, Randy.’ He was a hell of a drummer.’’

Mr. Carter leaves his partner, Joan Rothenberg of Foxborough; siblings Joseph Frye of Washington, D.C., Christine Carter Grimes of Everett, Pearl Frye, Donald Frye, and Winston Joyner, all of Boston, and Manetta, James, Marion, and Jeana Cappra of Brockton; his stepmother, Margie Cappra of Brockton; and a host of other relatives, friends, and fellow musicians.

A memorial service was held Sept. 14.