In memory of Nigel John Wyngard, Clancy Mbirimi
PATIENCE MUSA
In the month of June, Zimbabwe lost two of its quiet giants—men whose names may not always have been in lights, but whose work lit the way for generations.
Clancy Mbirimi and Nigel John Wyngard, each a pillar in his own right, walked parallel paths of rhythm, mentorship, and devotion to the sacred art of music. Their lives—deeply rooted in Zimbabwe’s cultural soil—unfolded in studios, stages, and quiet rehearsal rooms where young artists learned not just how to play, but how to listen.
These were not men who chased fame. They followed sound.
They listened. They lifted.
And when they left the stage this June, the silence they left behind was profound.
Clancy Mbirimi was the steady hand behind Zimbabwe’s evolving soundscape. Best known as the bassist for the legendary Harare Mambos, Clancy’s deep, melodic lines formed the grounding current beneath a music that helped carry Zimbabwe into independence and beyond.
He was not flashy. He was foundational.
He played bass for a constellation of bands within Zimbabwe’s live music circuit—including Summer Breeze, James Chimombe, Tony Gumbo, and most enduringly, The Rusike Brothers, with whom he performed right up until his final days. On stage, he brought not just skill, but soul—the kind of playing that was as felt as it was heard.
He was the bassist behind countless Zimbabwean hits and, as a producer and session musician at Metro Recording Studio, helped shape the sound of the nation’s golden era. His touch was subtle but undeniable—he made songs breathe, made grooves last.
Growing up in Mbare, Clancy was surrounded by music and community. He shared a creative bond and lifelong camaraderie with fellow musicians Dave Ndoro and Hilton Mambo, and counted among his close childhood friends Charlemagne Chimbangu, who was not a musician but a gifted footballer in his own right. Their friendships were forged in a golden era of township pride, artistic ambition, and brotherhood—a time when talent thrived in both music and sport, and the lines between stage and street were blurred only by joy.
Clancy was also a founding member of the Mbare Trio, a deeply respected jazz outfit formed with his brother William Kashiri, and fellow family musicians Lovejoy Mbirimi and the late Friday Mbirimi. Together, they became a staple at jazz festivals across Zimbabwe, celebrated for their warm harmonies, instrumental mastery, and rich cultural expression. The Mbare Trio wasn’t just a group—it was a living archive of Zimbabwean jazz heritage.
Through decades of performing, collaborating with artists like Chioniso Maraire, Steve “Dhongi” Makoni, and mentoring rising talents—including a young Clive “Mono” Mukundu, whose first steps into music production Clancy helped enable—his influence stretched quietly and meaningfully across the nation’s music map.
With Friday Mbirimi and others in their circle, Clancy helped carry forward a musical lineage rooted in discipline, soul, and an unshakeable commitment to cultural excellence.
As co-founder of the Zimbabwe Jazz Community Trust, he ensured the next generation had stages to stand on—through workshops, weekly jazz sessions, and gatherings that honoured the past while improvising toward the future.
Nigel John Wyngard, affectionately known as the heartbeat of FaB Ovation, was a true rhythm man and born entertainer. His stage presence was electrifying, his performances flawless, and his energy deeply inspiring. Whether laying down solid grooves or delivering soulful solos, Nigel’s musical brilliance always stood out.
Born in Bulawayo, he was drawn to rhythm and bass guitar from a young age. His talent was nationally recognized in 1967, when he won Best Bassist at a local talent contest—a moment that launched a lifelong journey in music.
As a teenager, he formed his first band, The When, followed soon after by The Crusaders, a soul group that took third place in the Texan Rock Band Contest at the International Trade Fair. Nigel won Best Bass Guitarist, and the band earned accolades for Best Vocalist and Best Drummer—a remarkable achievement for a young coloured group during the Rhodesian era. The late Barney Desousa was one of the band’s standout members.
In 1969, he played in Cassim’s Dance Band, delivering ballroom and lang-arm music to eager audiences. After marrying in 1970, Nigel stepped away from music to focus on family, returning in the 1990s with even greater passion and purpose.
In Harare, he joined the band Europa, followed by Sabuku in 2005, performing alongside Robert Moore. Then came the vibrant and much-loved Subway Band (2008/09), which included his son Brennan Wyngard, Joe Vas, the late Bob Savania, Justin Souter, Raymond Abdul, Lindsay Yon, Chezelle Nunu Songbird, and Zeena the Diva. Subway was a hit on the local scene until Nigel’s move back to Bulawayo in 2011.
There, he formed Ovation, which was eventually reborn as FaB Ovation after he returned to Harare. FaB Ovation brought Nigel’s journey full circle—fusing old-school groove with new energy. It was a family collaboration that included core Subway members and fresh talent, most notably his son Brennan and daughter-in-law Faith Ganyau. Their performance debut at HIFA 2015 marked not just a return but a renewal.
Together, they released the album Mixed Bag (2017), a fitting name for a band that embraced jazz, Afro-fusion, soul, and dance—all guided by Nigel’s seasoned ear and creative vision.
He was more than a musician. He was a loving father and grandfather, a devoted husband, and a generous mentor. He groomed both of his sons into capable musicians, ensuring his legacy continues not only on records and stages, but in living, breathing artistry.
In recent years, Nigel became an advocate for digital literacy and industry empowerment, contributing to the Kunzwana Trust’s Arts Factory Project—a testament to his belief that music was not only passion, but purpose.
Though Clancy and Nigel rarely shared the same stage, their lives were in harmonic alignment. Both believed in live performance as a truth-telling act. Both embraced mentorship as responsibility, not charity. And both left behind music that doesn’t just fill air—it fills gaps, holds history, and reminds us of what it means to belong.
Their passing within weeks of each other feels like the dimming of two steady lanterns. Not spotlights. Lanterns. The kind that light the way for others, gently and without fanfare.
As tributes pour in—from fellow musicians, producers, and fans who grew up watching, listening, and learning from them—one thing becomes clear: Zimbabwe’s soundscape will never be the same. But it will always carry echoes of their basslines and blueprints.
In the quiet spaces between applause, between rehearsals, between generations—Clancy Mbirimi and Nigel Wyngard were there, holding time, holding rhythm, holding people.
And now, we hold them.
In song.
In memory.
In gratitude.
Rest in rhythm.
Together, they released the album Mixed Bag (2017), a fitting name for a band that embraced jazz, Afro-fusion, soul, and dance—all guided by Nigel’s seasoned ear and creative vision.
He was more than a musician. He was a loving father and grandfather, a devoted husband, and a generous mentor. He groomed both of his sons into capable musicians, ensuring his legacy continues not only on records and stages, but in living, breathing artistry.
In recent years, Nigel became an advocate for digital literacy and industry empowerment, contributing to the Kunzwana Trust’s Arts Factory Project—a testament to his belief that music was not only passion, but purpose.
Though Clancy and Nigel rarely shared the same stage, their lives were in harmonic alignment. Both believed in live performance as a truth-telling act. Both embraced mentorship as responsibility, not charity. And both left behind music that doesn’t just fill air—it fills gaps, holds history, and reminds us of what it means to belong.
Their passing within weeks of each other feels like the dimming of two steady lanterns. Not spotlights. Lanterns. The kind that light the way for others, gently and without fanfare.
As tributes pour in—from fellow musicians, producers, and fans who grew up watching, listening, and learning from them—one thing becomes clear: Zimbabwe’s soundscape will never be the same. But it will always carry echoes of their basslines and blueprints.
In the quiet spaces between applause, between rehearsals, between generations—Clancy Mbirimi and Nigel Wyngard were there, holding time, holding rhythm, holding people.
And now, we hold them.
In song.
In memory.
In gratitude.
Rest in rhythm kings!
