Andy Bey, whose haunting honeycombed baritone voice with four octaves eloquently transformed any song from the Great American Songbook into his own signature tune, died on April 26 at the Actors Fund Home in Englewood, N.J. He was 85.
His nephew, stage actor and singer Darius de Haas, said he died of natural causes.
Bey, like Shirley Horne, enjoyed the art of lingering space, silence that danced between notes that stretched phrases into eloquent picturesque ballads. He sang effortlessly behind the beat, but could then instantly be ahead of the beat, dashing along in graceful elegance. His smoke-filled baritone pulled listeners into the midnight afternoon of his unique song-styled interpretations.
Take a listen to any of his albums, like “It Ain’t Necessarily So” (12th Street Music). On this well-traveled titled track, he starts with deep melodic piano notes before easing into this storied biblical story. His returns on the cut “If I Should Lose You” were all piano prowess — his playing was just as exquisite as his singing; that came out of soul with a taste of R&B and blues.
Bey dared to build a repertoire on ballads while diving deep into the emotional core of it all. It was a rare determination for a Black male singer in the world of jazz, but Jimmy Scott, Arthur Prysock, and Al Hibbler had succeeded on such a path. Bey was surely a leader in that legendary pack, along with Nat King Cole — one of his great influences, along with Sarah Vaughan (whom he knew from Newark) and Billie Holiday.
During his six-decade career, Bey was awarded Jazz Vocalist of the Year a number of times by the Jazz Journalists Association, and NPR’s 2014 Jazz Critics Poll award for Best Vocal Album for “Pages from an Imaginary Life.” His album “American Song” received a Grammy nomination for Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2004, and he won in the same category in 2013, for “The World According to Andy Bey.”
Even in his octogenarian years, Bey showed no signs of slowing down — he performed until his last years. “It kind of slows down, but it’s still kind of productive in a way, because you have something that you can be inspired by,” Bey said on an NPR Jazz Night in America in 2019 when he was 80. “The music is always inspiring.”
During the Civil Rights Movement, Bey’s bellowing baritone vocals took on an intensified gospel bluesy tone, fronting a fierce avant garde swing ensemble when he sang the title song on Max Roach’s “Members Don’t Git Weary” (Atlantic, 1968). That year, after Bey played on Roach’s album, saxophonist Gary Bartz tapped Bey for his new jazz fusion quartet, the NTU Troop. Its racial liberation statements drew out what Bey termed his “power voice” that he asserted on the album “Harlem Bush Music – Taifa” (Milestone Records, 1970), and the next few albums that followed by Bartz.
“He was my brother,” Gary Bartz said in JazzTimes (2025). “He was an instrument to me, just like another horn. He and I were the front line. He had perfect pitch. He had no problem doing things by ear.”
On the 1970 Blue Note album “That Healin’ Feelin’,” Bey began an intermittent 20-year association with Horace Silver. Bey and Dee Dee Bridgewater were the featured vocalists on Stanley Clarke’s album “Children of Forever” (Polydor Records, 1973).
His 1974 Atlantic records solo debut, “Experience and Judgment,” received modest acclaim, but commercial success and recognition were not forthcoming until his 1996 album “Ballads, Blues & Bey,” (Evidence Records), a live solo recording that put him on a road of recognition and prominence that was well-overdue. An unclaimed treasure had finally been acknowledged. A segment on ”CBS Sunday Morning” followed, as well as a feature in the New York Times. At 57, Bey was finally selling records. He released seven more albums over the next 18 years, and became a fixture on the global jazz-club circuit.
Bey publicly revealed that he was gay, just before releasing “Ballads, Blues & Bey.” Although he had never hidden his sexuality, his decision to publicize it came after learning he was H.I.V.-positive.
Andrew Wideman Bey, Jr. was born in Newark, N.J., on October 28, 1939. His father was a window-washer; he adopted the Bey as a surname as a follower of the Moorish Science Temple of America. His mother Victoria (Johnson) Wideman raised Andy and his eight siblings. At the early age of 3, he took to the piano, and by age eight he was already being chaperoned by family members to Newark clubs.
He recorded a single, “Mama’s Little Boy Got the Blues” (Jubilee, 1953), that earned him an appearance at the Apollo Theatre, where he sang with his idol, R&B bandleader Louis Jordan. He then appeared on “Star Time Kids,” the NBC children’s show that also featured Connie Francis and Joe Pesci.
Bey was basically self-taught as a vocalist, but his older sisters Salome and Geraldine were strong influences. In 1961, they formed Andy & the Bey Sisters, blending the soul of gospel and jazz. Together, they recorded three albums for the RCA Victor and Prestige labels: “Andy and the Bey Sisters,” “Now! Hear!,” and “Round Midnight.” Although they received accolades for their 16-month tour of Europe, the group disbanded in 1967.
Bey made one last public appearance, with bass and drums, on February 7, 2020, at Minton’s Playhouse in Harlem. “He was just getting the trio back together, and then Covid stopped everything,” said his drummer, Vito Lesczak. Bey’s health was also declining, and in 2021, Darius de Haas arranged to move him into the Actors Fund Home in Englewood, N.J.
Listening to Bey, you may cry in your teacup, dance in his baritone of smoke, or just sit in awe of his warm, soulful magic.
Bey is survived by his sister Geraldine (Bey) de Haas and many nieces and nephews.
A memorial celebration of Bey’s life and musical legacy is being planned.