Like many others at this get-together, Buddy figures in my book, “Cleveland Rock & Roll Memories.” He’s an affable host, a good drummer (his rhythms animated Rainbow Canyon, Charade and Quantrill’s Raiders) and a soulful singer who can still hit the high notes. On Sept. 14, the weather was gorgeous, the vibes good, and the food—the culinarily talented Carol is a generous hostess—was wonderful.

There were the chronic no-shows, like Raspberry throat Eric Carmen, favorite Cleveland son Michael Stanley and the singularly reclusive Joe Walsh (who doesn’t live anywhere nearby anyway). But there were plenty of notables, like Raspberries lead guitarist Wally Bryson, James Gang drummer Jimmy Fox, and the redoubtable guitarist Billy Sullivan.

It’s a bittersweet event, and not because of the music, which, for the most part, is timeless. But the “reunion” itself shows how far the Cleveland music scene has shrunk since its glory days in the ‘60s and ‘70s, when clubs, arenas, radio and records were a seamless, powerful blend. It’s only at Buddy’s that all of those elements come together. It’s telling it’s by invitation only.