Syd Kitchen tends to be referred to these days as a local music institution. Though possibly factually correct, the description does him scant justice. Institutions are generally old and musty, conservative and dedicated to the preservation of the past; Syd is anything but. Indeed his unremitting willingness to keep moving forward and embracing the musically new are astonishing.

I first encountered him in the early '70s when he was the more extroverted half of an impressively original acoustic duo with his brother Pete. Syd wrote, sang and strummed - and played a little percussion and recorder - while Pete's guitar provided the flourishes and filigree fills. They became favourites of a folk music scene that harboured some of South Africa's most notable ever songwriting, and Syd - soon a published poet, with his book, Scars That Shine, a crucial addition to every hip local library - was among the best.

Syd Kitchen

Virtually without the assistance of the formal record industry he has built up an admirable body of recorded work, and his musical CV is wider ranging than most musicians could even imagine. He's always seemed and sounded completely at home, whether solo or with a bewildering array of ensembles, from jazz-rock fusioneers Equinox and the wonderfully named Harry Was A Snake to the category defying virtuosity of the Aquarian Quartet ... and I once saw him lead an electric band through a convincing set of blues standards.

Syd's musical passage from enthusiastically strumming folkie to one of the country's genuine acoustic guitar virtuosi has been relentless and yet somehow natural. He continues to study all aspects of music rigorously - its theory and practice, its history and sociology. Nobody would blame him if he showed signs of resting on his laurels - something one might expect from an institution, in fact - but his enthusiasm for new ventures is undiminished and Bafo Bafo, his current collaboration with maskanda hero Madala Kunene, sees him headed in yet another direction.

I have had the privilege of playing with Syd from time to time and have been fortunate to experience at first hand the way he enriches the musical scene by his sheer zest for performing. If he instils in his students just a fraction of his passion for music, it will be enough.

Everybody recognises Syd by his trademarks - the hat and the handshake - but those who know him better love him for his humility, his unfailing good humour, and the disarming frankness that shows in his songs. Institution be damned! Let's rather start describing Syd Kitchen as a South African music treasure.

by Richard Haslop