They called him “The Animal”, not for rage, but for rhythm.
When Jerry “Chit” Felix sat behind a drum kit, he became a force of nature.
Sticks blurred. Cymbals screamed. Hair flew. Crowds felt the pulse in their chests.
The once heartbeat of The Falcons stopped this week. Jerry, one of Malaysia’s most electrifying drummers, died after a long battle with prostate cancer. He was 73.
“I was in school when I first saw The Falcons performing in Stadium Negara around 1970,” recalled Freddie Fernandez, former leader of The Revolvers.
Freddie said: “There was Jerry Ventura on bass and vocals, Frankie Samuel on guitar, and the late Grenville Pereira on organ.
“But the drummer’s face I couldn’t see — it was hidden behind a huge mane of hair, bobbing up and down in sync with the powerful rhythm he was pounding out.
“He was playing with two bass drums! His limbs were flying at lightning speed while the band pounded out an amazing cover of Deep Purple’s Flight of the Rat. I was spellbound.”
That drummer was Jerry – the “animal” in the house.
Freddie would later share stages with The Falcons, playing beside the man he once watched in awe.
He said in the early 1970s, they had their own dance club called The House in Jalan Pekeliling.
“We often jammed there on weekends — great fun, great camaraderie. Jerry held the band together like glue with impeccable timing, always solid as a rock.
“Later we collaborated on jingles and studio work. I’ll always hold fond memories of an incredibly talented drummer who mesmerised his fans with sheer power and precision.
“Visually amazing to watch — just plain breathtaking overall.”
A legacy in the blood
Jerry was born into rhythm. His father Patrick and uncles Victor and Michael formed Victor Felix and the Hawaiian Rhythmics, a household name in Malaysia’s pre-rock era.
The next generation turned up the volume. Cousins Brian, Ronnie, and Jerry carried the family sound into the 1960s club circuit.
Together with a revolving cast of gifted musicians, they built The Falcons — a band that blended pop, rock, soul, and rhythm and blues into something unmistakably Malaysian.
They rehearsed every Saturday morning in a living room on Peel Road, Kuala Lumpur. Neighbourhood kids pressed against the windows to listen.
From that small house, The Falcons took flight — playing across the country and, remarkably, for US troops in Vietnam.
The sound of a generation
When The Falcons were starting off, Malaysia was alive with new sounds.
After Cliff Richard and The Shadows played at Merdeka Stadium in 1961 — in a concert that raised funds for the National Monument — teenage boys across the country picked up guitars and drums.
St John’s Institution in Kuala Lumpur had The Teenage Hunters. The band’s lead guitarist was Terry Thaddeus while another guitarist-singer was James D’Oliverio from St Michael’s Institution, Ipoh.
Cochrane Road School had The Strangers, led by Agus Salim, who idolised Cliff Richard.
In Kampung Baru, a young Hassan Idris started Sputnik; in Klang, The Blue Dominoes rocked school halls with Michael Magness and Peter Ghouse.
In Petaling Jaya, The Ghosts — featuring Indonesian migrant Amrin Abdul Madjid — played house parties, where a curious onlooker named Billy Chang soaked in the scene.
Drummer Ramli Yaakob of Sinaran and Hussein Idris of The Typhoons soon joined the wave.
By 1965, Amrin, Billy, Hassan, and Ramli formed The Strollers, who would become one of Malaysia’s most celebrated bands.
It was the age of pop yeh-yeh, where Western guitar combos met local flair.
Bands learned by ear, played by instinct, and defined a generation’s freedom.
Rebellion and rhythm
By the early 1970s, the local music scene was bursting with energy.
Clubs, school halls and seaside venues pulsed with live music every weekend — until a three-day festival changed everything.
In July 1972, the “Woodstock” of Malaysia took place at Camp Semangat, Cheras.
The Falcons played alongside Ash Wednesday, The Gypsies, Mushroom Alice and Illusion Revival before thousands of fans.
But the euphoria didn’t last. The media condemned the event as a display of moral decay.
The backlash led to a government clampdown: entertainers with long hair were barred from television, while hippies and scruffy foreigners were denied entry into the country.
At the height of the frenzy, The Strollers were offered a TV series by RTM — but were told to cut their hair.
Drummer Hussein famously replied: “Keep your programme. We keep our hair.”
It was an era when music meant freedom — and defiance.
The animal behind the kit
Jerry never read notes; he read the room. He played with instinct, heart and fury.
“His solos were explosions, his fills like lightning strikes. He didn’t just keep time, he chased it,” said Sons of Adam drummer Ruzlan Omar, whose band, The Gypsies, performed alongside The Falcons at Woodstock Cheras.
Keyboardist Eddy Zachariah, who joined The Falcons in the 2000s, remembered that energy vividly.
“I got to know Jerry in the 80s when he was with Made in Malaysia and was always in awe every time I saw him behind the drums.
“His hair flew about as he played and his drum solos were phenomenal.
“I learnt so much from him, Jerry Ventura (Jet) and Ronnie. Chit was the best rock drummer of his time — always cheerful, always positive, even when unwell.”
In 2020, Jerry, Ronnie, Jet, and Eddy planned a reunion show — a benefit concert for fellow musicians in need.
Then the pandemic hit. The show never happened, but rehearsals did — small, joyful sessions at Edwin Nathaniel’s studio.
Those sessions turned out to be their last. In 2022, founding guitarist Brian passed away. In March this year, Ronnie followed.
The beat goes on
Jerry’s life never drifted far from the drum kit.
“I’ve never worked in an office before,” he once said. “Music is everything for me.”
He played with The JJeds, Made in Malaysia, and shared stages with Man Kidal, Jaclyn Victor, and Krisdayanti.
In 2003, he released a solo CD, “…At Last”, proving he still had new rhythms to offer.
By 2013, his career had spanned nearly six decades — earning him a Malaysian Book of Records listing as the nation’s longest-playing drummer.
Even when arthritis and cancer set in, he refused silence.
He taught drums at Yamaha in Shah Alam and held private lessons at home.
“My style is too strenuous to play now,” he said then. “But I can still teach. That’s what keeps me going.”
Jerry also championed Musicians for Musicians Malaysia, helping others even as he battled illness himself.
He played for others long after he stopped playing for himself, and that generosity became his encore.
Jerry gave Malaysian rock its pulse — fierce, precise, and unforgettable.
His rhythm may have faded, but his beat lives on in every band that dares to play loud, live free, and mean it.
The wake will be held today from 2pm to 10pm at St Ignatius Church (Parlour 1), Taman Plaza, Petaling Jaya. The funeral mass will be tomorrow at 9am at the Church of St Thomas More, Subang Jaya.
