Avi Wisnia

“How the son of a rabbi from Jersey went Brazilian, we’re not quite sure…”
Isn’t that the plot to The Jazz Singer?

Avi Wisnia reminds me of when I first started listening to lounge music. This is back just before graduating high school, fresh off a stint with thrash metal, and a bit burned out by its dueling harmonized guitar leads. I yearned for something a bit more mellow; music that showcased the sonorous voice of a veteran stage vamp or mustachioed crooner. Those smoky bar jazz yearnings have been reawakened by a 30-minute listening session with Avi Wisnia, and while my love of dual harmonized guitar leads has since returned, I gotta give it up to those performers who turn their vim and vigor inwards, and suggest where others proclaim.

Geez, that’s a real roundabout way of saying I dig on Avi’s lounge-y, honey-voiced jazz.

While, “Rabbit Hole,” the first song that popped up on Avi’s page, instantly struck me a G. Love & Special Sauce (hold the sauce, please) meets a Jonathan Richman that you can take home to your parents (you know, less bug-eye stare, more witty conversation), with a later-day Elvis Costello delivery. The winking jazz hinted at with that first track comes into full blossom with “Something New” and “Sunday Afternoon,” which drift along in a pleasant haze. I’m digging it. For those in the NYC area, check out his upcoming show dates after the jump. But first, acquire an appreciation for expensive cigars and fine single malts; that might be your best way of preparing for Avi’s music.

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