Velvet Nights and Vinyl: Suono’s Italian Elegance in the West Village
By Rafi Mercer
New Listing
Suono is one of New York City’s most respected listening bars — explore more in our NYC Music Venues guide.
Venue Name: Suono
Address: 520 Hudson St, New York, NY 10014, United States
Website: suononyc.com
Phone: N/A
Spotify Profile: N/A
There’s a particular kind of West Village evening — narrow streets lit in gold, conversations drifting from doorways, the air thick with the smell of something slow-cooked and expensive. In the middle of it, Suono sits like a secret you’re almost afraid to share.
From the street, the entrance is discreet — a dark doorway, a faint pulse of bass just audible when the door opens. Step inside and you’re in another world: low ceilings, deep booths, and a bar that glows like an old theatre marquee. The light is all amber and shadow, falling softly on polished wood and velvet.
The sound system is the room’s heartbeat. Custom-built and carefully tuned, it delivers a warmth and depth that feels almost tactile. The records are drawn from a library that leans heavily on jazz, but with excursions into Italian film scores, Brazilian bossa, and the occasional disco or Balearic cut to lift the energy.
On any given night, you might find a resident DJ playing with a collector’s restraint, letting each track stretch and breathe. Other times, guest selectors bring their own touch — maybe a night of Morricone deep cuts, maybe a set that moves from Bill Evans to Fela Kuti without ever losing the thread.
The cocktail program is as polished as the playlists. Italian classics get thoughtful twists — a Negroni with smoked vermouth, a Spritz with seasonal bitters — alongside an array of amari that seem to invite slow sipping. Drinks arrive quietly, service slipping into the background so the music can stay front and centre.
Suono isn’t a “no talking” bar, but it is a “listening” bar — the kind where conversation finds its rhythm with the music, not against it. Even on a busy Friday, there’s space in the sound for both a bassline and a laugh.
Leave late and the West Village feels different. The streets are the same, but your ears are tuned to the memory of brushed cymbals, warm horns, and the last low notes fading as the door closed behind you.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
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