Feya Faku, Jazz Luminary and Generational Bridge, Has Passed On

His ascension comes during a volatile time – a moment of global reckoning and local horrors that have startled even the bravest. Among these era-defining shifts is the steady departure of some of South Africa's finest musicians and artists. In just the past month, we've lost giants:Louis Moholo-Moholo departed days ago, andRashid Lombard not long before. Stretch further back, and the past six months resemble a purge: drummer Morabo Morojele, Malombo percussionist Thabang Tabane, and the transcendent vocalist Suthukazi Arosi – all gone. The scene is in flux.

Born Fezile "Feya" Faku in 1962 in New Brighton, Port Elizabeth (now Gqeberha), bra Feya emerged from the Eastern Cape's storied jazz lineage – a region that birthed titans. His grounding in township choral traditions and brass bands gave his horn a timbre both spiritual and unmistakably South African.

Pianist, composer, and producer Luyanda Madope was playing some of Faku's compositions at the piano when OkayAfrica called to reflect on the life of a man whose output carried the weight of someone aware that their time was limited.

"I'm left with joy," he tells OkayAfrica, digging into a memory archive that stretches back to his student days in Johannesburg. Madope played Faku's Homage album religiously and describes the prolific composer as "that master."

"If you've passed through him, you know what's up. You know, when it's him, he has a voice. He's got the sound that's only him," Madope says.

This singular voice was a gift not only to South African jazz but to scenes across Europe, where he performed with Dominic Egli's Pluralism, and the US, where he toured with the Uhadi Ensemble (alongside the likes of McCoy Mrubata and the late Sibongile Khumalo). One of his last public appearances was at the Cape Town International Jazz Festival, where he was flanked by Egli, Mthunzi Mvubu, Sisonke Xonti, and Raffaele Bossard.

Pianist and producerBokani Dyer had just left a studio session when he received the news via a mutual friend. He first met Faku as an eight-year-old when he worked with Dyer's father, the legendary Steve Dyer. But it was over the past eight years, as Bokani grew into his own, that the two forged a deep artistic bond.

"He taught me so much – through compositions, rehearsals, conversations, time on the bandstand," Dyer tells OkayAfrica. "He connected me to the generation before mine and gave me a better understanding of where the music came from."

The loss still feels surreal. "It's crazy; he called me just a few days ago to book me for a gig. We spoke about his recent birthday show, which I was unable to attend. I told him how special it was that his son Bathabile featured on flute for the first time," Dyer reflects.

Faku's output was prolific. "I used to tell him I don't know anyone who writes more than he does," Dyer reveals. "Every rehearsal, there was at least one new idea." If they hadn't seen each other in a while, Faku would arrive with new scores or send voice notes of melodies in progress, often asking for feedback or harmonization ideas. "He understood the tradition, having played with Bheki Mseleku, Abdullah Ibrahim, Winston Mankunku ... and passed that on to us. He shared stories, too."

Over a four-decade career, Faku played with many of South African jazz's most revered names – McCoy Mrubata, Zim Ngqawana, Sidney Mnisi, and Andile Yenana - and contributed to international collaborations that carried his warm flugelhorn tone to stages across the globe. Whether as a bandleader or sideman, his playing was always marked by grace, generosity, and a deep melodic sensitivity rooted in isiXhosa idioms and post-bop traditions.

Thandi Ntuli, another pianist and composer who has carved out a distinct voice in the South African jazz scene, finds it difficult to separate Faku the musician from Faku the person. "It's hard to differentiate between the two," she says to OkayAfrica. "I think what he meant to me – and I imagine to a lot of younger musicians – was that real openness and the spirit of mentorship."

That mentorship didn't always come in formal lessons. For Ntuli, it lived in his affirmations, his quiet encouragement. "He always used to say he loves my touch on the piano," she recalls. However, what impacted her the most was observing him. "He was a very observant person. Very quiet, very humble, but very devoted and dedicated to his craft."

She reflects on the difficulty of sustaining that level of dedication in South Africa, a country where structural support for the arts is often thin. "There are a lot of things that people have to do for themselves. But I always saw a man who was going to be devoted to the work and devoted to getting better."

His humility and consistency have inspired her approach to the music. Like Dyer, she was moved by how unrelenting he was in his creative practice. "He never stopped creating," she says. "I think it's so apt that – very similar to mam' Miriam Makeba, who passed when she was on stage – for him to be passing amid his work, it feels so aligned to who he was, and how devoted he was to the craft. I feel like a massive lighthouse has been switched off, in the sense of just having an elder who sets an example of true devotion and humility to his craft."