Originally hailing from the mean streets of Bayonne, New Jersey, Johnny Fayva, the only son of a Jew broad mother and a WOP father, started his crooning career as singing busboy at the Copa the day after his 14th birthday when a freak canning factory accident rendered his father both blind and incontinent. To keep his family off the streets he began working the circuit until one fateful night at the Neville Hotel in the Catskills where he was discovered singing what would become his signature hit, "Ashanum Dank." But success was short-lived; he had his first of nine heart attacks at age 17 when he tuned into the Ed Sullivan show to see a young Wayne Newton singing ". Danke Shoen " a note for note rip off of Johnny's signature number! Because Wayne was in with Sinatra ol' blue eyes took a shine that that Spanish guy Johnny had no recourse. Devastated, Fayva took to the bottle and dropped off the map... only to turn up ten years later playing a high end bar mitzvah in Memphis finding himself mano a mano with the King. Legend has it that Elvis wept to his version of "My Yiddisha Mama". The two became inseparable. From there, of course, it was on to Vegas. Fayva's Mecca. And here he was, opening for Elvis at the International. But when the lights came up, Fayva was missing. The crowd was incensed and so was Elvis. He was found the next morning passed out with three chorus girls. His name was mud. To this day, Fayva claims the whole thing was a set up. Exiled yet again, Fayva returned to his Jersey roots. Taking custodial work at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, Fayva swore off the business. But late one night over a few beers, (no tears Fayva hasn't cried since the doctor smacked him on the ass) Fayva shared his tale of 'high end' woe with the scruffy young leader of the house band. As the story goes, the fledgling rocker had heard the tail from his mother, Mrs. Springsteen, who would sing "Ashanem Donk" to him at night. Inspired by The Boss, Fayva decided to get back in the game. It was a long road, some twenty more years, which included five massive coronaries, three wives and a lot of IOUs. Now in Los Angeles -- to help his asthmatic condition -- he started playing the Roosevelt Hotel. Late one night, armed only with his keyboard and Casio drumbeat, Fayva tore into his stirring rendition of Led Zep's "Whole Lot of Love." Moments later, Slash, taking a breather from a late night recording session, walked in. The guitar hero was instantly smitten and bounded for the stage in time for the solo. Word traveled fast, and any one who was anyone in the LA rock scene clamored to share a mike with Fayva. Like a phoenix rising up from the ashes, Fayva is back, and finally on top where he belongs. Lately you can catch Fayva in NY and London performing at The Box as he swing from the chandeliers in his glittery G-string like a human disco ball… or balls anyway. Viva la Fayva
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