Greg Bandy, the Cleveland-born jazz drummer known for his spirited playing and deep commitment to the music, passed away on May 23 at the age of 74. His death was confirmed by family members. He died in the city where his journey began.
Born on March 18, 1951, Bandy grew up in Cleveland’s Glenville neighborhood. He attended Glenville High School and graduated in 1969. Though he briefly studied at Baldwin Wallace, the pull of music and the drums was stronger than any classroom. In the early 1970s, still in his twenties, Bandy made his way to New York City.
Once there, he quickly found himself in the company of giants. He played with the likes of Charles Mingus, Lee Morgan, and Pharoah Sanders. He wasn’t a drummer who stayed in the background. His cymbal work, groove, and presence always stood out. Other musicians often remarked that when Greg Bandy was on the drums, you felt it. There was a fire in his playing, but also a sensitivity. He could drive a band and still leave space for others to speak.
Over the years, Bandy performed across the world. He played jazz festivals, clubs, and concert halls. He recorded as both a sideman and a leader. In 1997, he released Lightning in a Bottle, a project that allowed listeners to hear more of his musical ideas. Yet Bandy never chased the spotlight; he let the music do the talking.
Later in life, Bandy returned to Cleveland. He became a fixture in the city’s jazz scene, leading trios and mentoring young players. He also co-led a group that honored the spirit of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers. Fittingly, he called it Bandy Does Blakey. The group wasn’t about nostalgia; it was about keeping a certain energy alive.
Teaching became just as important to him as performing. He taught at Oberlin Conservatory and at Tri-C’s Jazz Studies program. Students remember him not just for what he taught, but for how he carried himself. He was serious about the music, but he was also generous with his time and knowledge. He wanted to see others grow. He wanted the music to live on.
Even when health challenges forced him to stop performing a few years ago, Bandy remained active in the community. He showed up. He listened. He supported younger players. That’s the kind of musician he was.
Greg Bandy’s passing is a loss for jazz, not just in Cleveland, but everywhere the music is played. He brought something real to every note. His rhythm wasn’t just felt, it was shared.
He is survived by family, friends, students, and fellow musicians whose lives he touched. The beat goes on, but Greg’s hands are no longer behind it. Still, anyone who ever heard him play knows: his rhythm stays with you.