Laziza — Brooklyn’s Falafel & Funk Frequency
By Rafi Mercer
New Listing
Venue Name: Laziza
Address: 306A Malcolm X Boulevard, Brooklyn, New York 11233, United States.
Website: funkylaziza.com
Instagram: @funkylaziza
The music comes first. It always does. Even before the lights, before the scent of grilled spices, before the first cocktail lands, you feel the rhythm. A low, warm pulse — funk basslines sliding under oud melodies — fills the room. This is Laziza, Bed-Stuy’s newest hybrid of sound and flavour, where vinyl records, mezze plates, and a deep sense of groove share the same table.
Set on Malcolm X Boulevard, Laziza stands out from the street like a warm ember. Through its front windows you glimpse amber light, hanging disco balls, and the flicker of reflections off mirrored tiles. Inside, the room feels alive. The palette is gold and plum; velvet banquettes wrap around tables scattered with ceramic dishes. The bar glows in soft amber, bottles lined like instruments ready for tuning. Every surface has texture — mosaic, cork, brass, glass — all chosen to absorb light and let sound move. It’s a space that feels sculpted by rhythm.
Laziza’s founders built the concept around three words: falafel, funk, and good times. The menu runs on that same playful confidence. It’s Middle Eastern at its heart but global in execution: charcoal-grilled lamb skewers, crispy cauliflower with tahini, hummus topped with burnt butter and sumac, muhammara, and warm flatbread still breathing from the oven. Dishes arrive in waves, like tracks on a playlist — each one familiar yet freshly mixed.
The bar follows the same cadence. Drinks lean toward the aromatic and the sunny — citrus, spice, and regional spirits woven into cocktail classics. Arak appears on the menu alongside craft gin; mezcal meets pomegranate; there’s a house martini cut with za’atar-infused vermouth. Each glass feels like a new track in the set. Nothing here is showy, yet everything carries a distinct sense of place.
But it’s the sound that defines Laziza. The nights unfold like an album — track by track, course by course. Resident DJs pull from funk, soul, disco, and vintage Middle Eastern records, spinning vinyl through a carefully tuned hi-fi system. The music is never background; it’s the bar’s identity. As the evening deepens, percussion lines blend into conversation, the room syncs to tempo, and you feel that rare thing: a restaurant that breathes like a dance floor.
The sound system itself is tuned to intimacy — warm midrange, bass that carries weight but never overwhelms. Vinyl sits behind the bar, stacked in crates, their sleeves a collage of Arabic typography and American funk. One night you might hear The Crusaders gliding into Fairuz; another, a mash of Habibi Funk and Roy Ayers. The curation is bold but seamless — proof that genres can converse across continents if you listen closely enough.
The crowd is as mixed as the playlist. Local artists and record collectors rub shoulders with couples out for date night, neighbours dropping in for mezze, and music heads who’ve come to hear the selection. Conversation overlaps, glasses clink, and between sets, there’s that golden hum of contentment that only happens when a room finds its rhythm. It’s social but unforced, cool without calculation — the kind of energy that New York has always done best.
Laziza’s design plays to that tempo. Lighting stays low, bouncing off metallic accents. Tables are close enough to spark connection but spaced so sound travels cleanly. There’s no stage, no separation between DJ and diner — the decks are part of the bar, integrated into the night’s flow. The effect is one of cohesion: food, drink, music, and people sharing the same physical frequency.
It’s no accident that the name means “delicious” in Arabic. Laziza is built on pleasure — sensory, communal, unpretentious. In a city where so many bars chase spectacle, this one chases balance. It’s a listening bar by spirit, but it doesn’t ask for reverence. It asks only for participation — to taste, to move, to stay awhile.
Step outside again and Bed-Stuy hums differently. Streetlights catch the rain on the pavement, a bus exhales at the corner, and somewhere behind you, a bassline rolls on under the laughter. That’s Laziza’s signature — it lingers. A trace of cumin and smoke on your hands, a rhythm under your skin, a reminder that music and food speak the same language when you let them play in the same room.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
