When I spoke with Ori Naftaly, guitarist and co-founder of the genre-bending blues band Southern Avenue, he was driving through Tennessee en route to New York. The band was in the middle of a tour, and Naftaly had pulled over to hop on the call. The connection faded in and out, as one might expect from a van full of musicians making their way across the country. But even over a spotty line, Naftaly’s tone came through grounded, thoughtful, and unmistakably upbeat.
“We’re only in New York for half a day,” he said with a laugh. “We go in, do the show, and hurry out. But I’m excited. We haven’t played there in a while.”
That kind of constant motion — shuttling between cities, cultures, and sounds — is something Naftaly knows intimately. Raised in Israel and musically shaped by Memphis soul and American blues, his life and career have followed a path that’s anything but linear. Still, his message, both musical and personal, has remained consistent: connection matters. Whether it’s a connection to his roots, his audience, his bandmates, or to a larger sense of purpose, that through-line defines both his music and his outlook.
Connection’s also the through-line of “Family,” Southern Avenue’s newest album. A vibrant mix of soul, blues, gospel, and rock, the record is a celebration of the band’s evolution, a chronicle of Naftaly’s personal and musical journey across continents, and a deeply personal portrait of a chosen family built on harmony in every sense of the word.
Memphis meets the Middle East
Naftaly’s gateway to Memphis music didn’t start in the American South — shockingly, it began thousands of miles away, in Tel Aviv. As a kid, he was drawn not to the mainstream Israeli pop or Mizrahi dance music of his peers. Instead, his ears turned into something distinctly American: the blues.“My parents took me to see Buddy Guy when I was 8 and B.B. King at 11,” he recalled. “It was just what I gravitated toward. Blues, rock, soul — it felt like home.”
That exposure wasn’t as random as it might seem. American music has long had a strong foothold in Israeli culture — whether through radio stations, imported records, or cover bands in the large Tel Aviv music scene —and Naftaly soaked it up.
Yet even as he leaned into the language of blues and soul, Naftaly remained rooted in his Israeli identity. The tension between those influences never felt like a contradiction to him. It was a catalyst.
“I’m a byproduct of my upbringing,” he explained. “When I solo, when we write, when we perform — there’s this undercurrent. It’s spiritual. It’s my ancestors. It’s all the places I’ve been and all the music I’ve heard. It just shows up.” Ironically, it was distance that brought Naftaly’s Israeli identity into sharper focus. Moving abroad and spending years on the road gave him a new appreciation for the sounds he grew up with.
“I fell in love with it more once I wasn’t surrounded by it every day,” he said. “That distance helps you hear things differently.”
Ori Naftaly’s road to Memphis
Naftaly didn’t arrive in the United States with a green card or a carefully mapped-out five-year plan. He came with a guitar, a calling, and a restless sense that he needed to be somewhere else — somewhere that could give his music room to grow. After experiencing a personal tragedy in his late teens, one that made him reevaluate everything, Naftaly made a decision: If he was going to pursue music, he would do it with full intensity and zero hesitation.
“Every day can be your last,” he said. “That became real for me early on.”
Memphis wasn’t just a career move or a romantic notion of the American South. It was, as he put it, “where God wanted me to be.” The city’s legendary role in the development of blues, rock, and soul music made it both a symbolic destination and a practical one. Memphis is the source. The crossroads. The place where generations of musicians had turned pain into poetry and struggle into sound.
But moving to Memphis wasn’t a single, dramatic leap. It was a slow drift that became permanent before he fully realized it.“It wasn’t like I said, ‘I’m moving to Memphis.’ It was more like, ‘Can I book another show? Can I come back?’ And then two years later, my mom said, ‘I think you live there now.’”
Today, Naftaly is woven into the fabric of Memphis’ musical scene. But he also remains deeply aware of what it means to enter that space as an outsider, an Israeli artist interpreting and performing a distinctly Black American art form. It’s not something he takes lightly.
“Memphis is where you come to learn,” he said. “To respect. To study. It’s not about blowing up. It’s about honoring the history and adding something of your own.”
A real family band
Southern Avenue is not just a band, it’s a family in every sense of the word. Naftaly is married to lead vocalist Tierinii Jackson. Her sister Tikyra anchors the rhythm section on drums while adding her own soulful vocals.. And now their youngest sister, Ava, has joined as a full-time member, rounding out the group with vocals, acoustics, and percussion. Together, their harmony isn’t just musical, it’s literal.
But that bond wasn’t built overnight.
“We were a band before we were a family,” Naftaly said. “Me and Tierinii didn’t get together right away. But once our daughter was born, and Ava joined full-time, it really became something else.”
That journey, from strangers and collaborators to bandmates and family, is at the heart of Family, Southern Avenue’s newest release. It is a concept album in the truest sense, chronicling Naftaly’s journey from Israel to the U.S., the band’s early struggles, and their eventual unity, all through music.
“‘Long Is the Road’ is my story,” he explained. “Coming to the U.S., losing things, trying to find myself. And then songs like ‘Upside’ — those are what Tierinii would have told me when I was in my worst place. It’s healing in real time.”
The album closes on a stripped-down but powerful note with “We Are,” a sparse, a cappella affirmation that sounds more like a communal prayer than a typical finale.
“We wanted it to feel like a blessing,” Naftaly said. “It’s what we wish for ourselves and for everyone listening.”
What comes next
As “Family” continues to resonate with listeners, Southern Avenue is back on the road, doing what they do best: connecting with audiences. They’re touring with Trombone Shorty, making the rounds on the festival circuit, and gearing up for dates with the Dave Matthews Band. But despite the bigger venues and growing crowds, Naftaly is still focused on the band’s core mission.
“Our hope,” he said, “is that people use this album in their lives. When they’re happy. When they’re grieving. When they need to feel something real.”
For Naftaly, “Family” is more than just an album title. It is a spiritual framework, a living memoir, and a melody that continues to grow louder and deeper with each performance. For Naftaly, it is also proof that music built on vulnerability, authenticity, and emotional truth can endure, even across cultures and continents.
A spiritual thread
If there is one message Naftaly keeps returning to, it’s this: music is divine. Whether he’s channeling gospel traditions, the raw emotion of Memphis soul, or the layered heritage of his Israeli upbringing, there’s a consistent undercurrent of intentionality and reverence in everything he plays.
“We’re not just performing,” he said. “We’re doing God’s work. That’s how we see it.”
That belief isn’t just theoretical. It’s something Naftaly has seen reflected back from fans in the most personal moments. He recalls hearing from a fan whose mother spent her final days in hospice care listening to Southern Avenue’s music.
“She had ‘Don’t Give Up’ in her headphones. That’s not just someone listening to your voice. That’s someone feeling something. That’s why we do this,” he said.
Naftaly sees his musical instincts as deeply shaped by his life experience. Though he does not deliberately set out to make music that reflects any one nationality or tradition, he knows the imprint of his Israeli roots, and the full spectrum of his experiences, are always present.
“Even when I try to play something more Middle Eastern, I end up back at soul and blues,” he said, laughing. “That’s just where my hands go. It’s who I am.”
