Baltimore — Avery Wilson was not trying to sing. As a kid watching old videos of Michael or Janet or Bobby tearing up the stage, Wilson cast himself in the background, dancing hard because everyone was watching. “I was like, ‘Goals!,’” he said of that childhood dream. Tap, jazz, hip-hop. That was Avery. That is until folks heard his voice.

Everybody knew. His dad. His teachers. Heck, all of Hamden, Conn. Oh, he needs to sing was a familiar hook. “And I still was fighting it,” said Wilson between sips of a late-morning pick-me-up before his tech rehearsal at Baltimore’s historical Hippodrome Theatre, the first stop in a 13-city national tour of “The Wiz” before the revival lands back on Broadway after 49 years.

Wilson is playing Scarecrow, the role Michael Jackson made instantly famous in the 1978 film version of the groundbreaking musical based on the story of the Wizard of Oz. “It’s an out-of-body experience,” Wilson said of his latest role, as he extended his left arm across the table to reveal a nine-year-old tat of “Thriller”-era Jackson.

“Anybody singing the Scarecrow is chasing Michael Jackson, and that’s just rough,” “The Wiz” director Schele Williams said. But when Wilson came in for his audition, she knew he was the one. He wasn’t imitating, he was reimagining, a skill Wilson has honed over the years performing covers. He doesn’t even like to call them that. “I don’t ever want to do a cover. I only want to honor,” he said. “The only way to respect that music is to inject yourself because that’s what they did.”

The stage revival itself is a cover of sorts. The film version, starring Diana Ross as Dorothy, is a holiday must-watch in many Black households (the opening scene is set on Thanksgiving). And to be clear, Black audiences especially do not play about their classics. Songs such as “Ease on Down the Road,” “Be a Lion” and “Home” are close to holy. But a fresh take on a story of self-discovery that is as weird as it is wonderful feels right today, according to Williams.

“‘The Wiz’ was authentic, it was joyful, it was a celebration. That’s what feels so good in this moment,” Williams said. She described Wilson’s take on Scarecrow as creative, beautiful and free.

“Nobody sings like Avery,” she said. “He has a double helping of blessing. His gift is so phenomenal.”

Not bad for the kid who “just didn’t feel like singing was me.”

It’s sonic dissonance to the 10th power. Wilson has an hour to explain how he got from there to here, and the clock is ticking even as the accolades add up. Over a million followers online, brand deals, A-list stans, Broadway-bound and a new single about to drop.

It all started at McDonald’s. Actually no, let’s start with the voice.

You’ve got to hear it to believe it. What comes out of Avery Wilson’s mouth when he decides to go there dodges definition because why waste the time? Just head to TikTok or Instagram and listen for yourself.

At this point you may be forgiven for wondering where this man has been despite the fact that Wilson has been all the places. On TV (“The Voice,” “Grown-ish”). Onstage singing “Thriller” at the Hollywood Bowl for Quincy Jones’s 90th birthday. Online singing backup for Babyface during NPR’s “Tiny Desk Concert” and subsequently killing Tevin Campbell’s “Can We Talk.”

“Vocally he cannot be touched. Vocally Avery needs to be protected,” said Kandi Burruss, the singer-songwriter, reality show star and boldface member of the musical’s production team. “He is one of those artists that’s just been amazing for years.”

Right? Wilson’s voice is throw-a-shoe good. It’s He should’ve won Season 3 of “The Voice” good. It’s Sir, where is the album? good.

“It’s a melodic thunderstorm,” Wilson, 28, said of the sound his fans (Babyface, Jennifer Hudson, Christina Aguilera) collectively gush over online. The range, the runs, the way he finds hidden notes in the classic covers he’s known for.

“When I think about a thunderstorm, there’s lightning, there’s thunder, there’s rain. It’s atmospheric. It’s all these different things,” he said. Wilson can be aggressive and loud — climbing to the eye-closing high note of Keyshia Cole’s “Love” — or sweet and soft, melting into the opening alto of Anita Baker’s “Giving You the Best That I Got.”

“Lightning peeks in at times you don’t expect” added Wilson, who really loves a good metaphor.

Here’s another one: His voice is also an AK-47.

“If you don’t know how to shoot a gun, you are going to do everything wrong. You’ll probably blow your whole shoulder off trying to hold it. But when you finally do learn? It’s like, okay, there’s a target. Bull’s-eye,” Wilson said by way of explaining how he’s spent the past 12 years since arriving in Hollywood at 16 to be a contestant on NBC’s “The Voice.” Target practice started early.

It was Wilson’s father, Gramen, who not only recognized his son’s talent but decided to do something about it. Enter McDonald’s.

“My dad is a hustler,” said Wilson, whose father went from flipping burgers to eventually becoming chief operating officer and operator of 28 McDonald’s restaurants in the Northeastern region. A well-known businessman with a showman’s bravado, Gramen would introduce his youngest thusly: “This is my son. Sing!” Wilson, still unsure of himself, would shrink inside. He still sang, though.

Determined to boost his son’s stage presence, the elder Wilson had a lightbulb moment. At 12, Avery was too young to perform at local clubs but just old enough to do open mics. So every Wednesday, his dad set up a professional sound system in the once-quiet corner of his restaurant with just one mandate — okay, well, two. Sing, “and don’t waste my (expletive) money.”

That’s how proprietors of the Hamden Plaza McDonald’s circa 2007 became all too familiar with the vocal stylings of one 13-year-old Avery Wilson belting out J. Holiday’s “Bed.”

“There was no stage. There was no lights. But he created it. In that space I gained a lot of my confidence and just broke fear,” said Wilson.

It became a thing. Wednesday nights at the McDonald’s on Dixwell Avenue. A homegrown “Showtime at the Apollo.” “It was created for me, but it ended up feeding so many people,” said Wilson. He sang there for nearly half a decade.

By senior year, Wilson was a contender on “The Voice.” When he auditioned for the singing competition show, it finally clicked. “I saw the response. The way they were screaming in the auditorium. I was like: ‘Okay. There’s something.’” Then he was eliminated in the “knockout” round, and the loss was devastating. His dad was clear-eyed, saying, “This is not the end, you’re just getting started.”

Of course the major labels came calling, and Wilson signed a production deal with music legend Clive Davis. But he still hasn’t released a studio album. Why? He has the voice — thunderstorm that it is. He has the looks — a sweet baby face with a large side of sultry. He has the presence — stepping up to a mic like “it’s not a toy, it’s an actual lifestyle.” So where’s the breakout? Where’s the big hit?

“Okay, now we gonna get into the real,” said Wilson, taking one last sip of his margarita and leaning back like folks do when they’re ready to unload.

For years Wilson barely recorded. His record deal with Davis and RCA was tied to a production deal with a well-known producer he doesn’t want to name. The duo didn’t gel artistically, according to Wilson, because he wasn’t comfortable divulging the details of his personal life. Labels, Wilson said he was told, needed to know who the singer was singing to.

The issue eventually took precedence over “my music, my voice,” said Wilson, who in 2020 tweeted “I’m bisexual. Ok bye.”

Wilson’s talent was put on a back burner, said Chris Young, his manager. The two met first met in the basement studio of the producer with whom Avery was signed. Young was then Keke Palmer’s manager, and the singer actress was trying out some new music. It was business as usual until Young heard Wilson sing.

“I was like: ‘Who is this? And why is he in the basement?’” Young said. The pair eventually started working together, first to get out of that production deal, which meant he had to part ways with RCA and Davis, then to build up his career cover by cover, follower by follower.

So Wilson has been in the game for nearly 12 years and hasn’t released an album. And yet people in the know, know exactly who he is. The strategy? Stay relevant. He is big on the socials. Videos of him singing abound. Want to go down a musical rabbit hole? Just Google “Avery Wilson singing.” It’ll be hours before you come up for air. Once you do, there will be another song waiting. Wilson just dropped a new single, “Kiss the Sky.” And an album is on the way.

“I just want to see him win,” said Young.

The Scarecrow’s big solo in the film version of “The Wiz” is a song titled “You Can’t Win.” Originally composed for the theater, the number was cut from the Broadway show. Jackson’s soulful interpretation of the lyrics — “You can’t win, child. You can’t break even. You can’t get out of the game” — made it an instant classic.

The song is about treading water. Smart as he is, Scarecrow has allowed the very birds he’s supposed to be scaring away keep him trapped on a pole while they feast on his crops. He doesn’t believe in himself, and it shows.

“It’s just too real for me,” said Wilson. “I’ve been in a space where I’ve been the person that was so talented but not talented enough, or maybe even too talented to get into rooms because of what people said. That noise has to be quiet. I had to turn it down to listen to myself.”

Then a funny thing happened on the road less traveled. Wilson kept singing, stayed relevant, built a following online, and is now redefining what it means to be successful in an industry too used to measuring wins in precious metal.

In short, Avery Wilson is winning, child. But he’s doing it in a way that is so different from the stereotypical studio model that it’s almost hard to quantify.

Or, as his good friend and frequent singing partner Stevie Mackey put it, “He’s the future.”

“He’s created the modern way for the artists. Now more than ever there’s no specific path. You can go different ways, and they’re all going toward greatness,” said Mackey, a celebrity vocal coach who’s worked with Whitney Houston, Stevie Wonder and Selena Gomez.

“It isn’t the ‘80s anymore. You don’t need the big machine to be successful,” Mackey added. “There’s a million of ways for people to see you now. Get your camera out, turn it on, find some light and record yourself doing something. Artists don’t need to feel the pressure of doing that one big album, as long as you’re making something. And Avery sings every day. That is a collection of work.”

Wilson’s career thus far — the stops, the starts, the success — can also be explained with an allegory.

See, said Wilson, it’s a lot like that “old computer game,” Minesweeper, a logic puzzle in which the player wins by clearing the board without detonating a mine. “I’ve been clicking a lot of boxes, and I’ve opened a lot of spaces,” he said, “but I haven’t hit a bomb yet.”