While he's still a relatively unknown quantity this side of the pond, SAM SHINAZZI'S already well-established round W&H Towers. The angst-y, but compelling Sydney-based singer/songwriter's sophomore effort 'Stories You Wouldn't Believe' was a regular listen on its' release way back in 2005 and remains a firm favourite around these parts.
Thus, after a lengthy four-year gap, 'Then I Held My Breath' can probably be described as 'long-awaited' in more ways than one. However, working with the old adage of not hurrying genius (or at least very good things) is the deal here, for Shinazzi's new album is every inch the creative success of its' melancholic predecessor.
Shinazzi's songs are such intensely personal affairs that this third album is probably no more 'difficult' than any of his other releases, though (while the album is dedicated to Sam's sadly late cat Fred) there does appear to be a little more sunshine – and even romance – peeking out from behind the clouds this time round. 'Girls', for example is a cute, alphabetical tribute to those of the female sex who help Sam get out of bed of a morning (“E is for Elizabeth my dear/ G is for girl, F is for friend”), while 'Please Don't Let Me Forget' finds our hero revelling in the finer details of attraction (“the dignified way you tilt your head/ don't ever under-estimate its' effect”) and the band matching it with glorious aplomb. He dares to be totally wry'n'romantic on the plaintive 'My Very Own Mary-Ellen' where he gushes “if I could bottle what you've got, I'd take a lifetime.” Aah, you old softie Sam!
Don't panic, though, because Sam's inherent melancholia's still bubbling close below the surface. Musically, this album is often harder and more of a full-band affair and certainly on emotionally turbulent outings like the opener 'Today we Lost a Great One' or the broiling power pop of 'Lil' Wandering Soul' the guitars are louder and more biting than ever before. Shinazzi has a memorable, if slightly desperate keen of a voice that falls somewhere between Michael Stipe and Mark Eitzel, but always arrests on its' own terms, especially when he gives into the sort of sparse, nocturnal soul-searching of a numb, Alex Chilton-style delight like 'Walking'.
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He also keeps a couple of his very best in reserve for the finale. 'Graduation Girl' is a windswept, expansive and slow-burning roots-rock glider, aided and abetted by some emotive pedal steel from fellow W&H fave Jason Walker, while 'Thinking' is a permanent ache of an acoustic confessional until it excuses itself for a bathroom break, pops a couple of steroids and comes out striding with the full band in its' wake. Its' frail lyrical broadsides (“can't you see me breaking?/ can't you see me shaking like a tree in the wind?”) are a return to the self-doubt of 'Stories You Wouldn't Believe', something compounded by the closing 'Something Great Must Come From This' which hurts real good and suggests that, when it all comes down, Sam Shinazzi is both a lover and a fighter.
'Then I Held My Breath' has been a long time coming, but it arrives with a new-found confidence and a consistency which will again ensure its' staying power on the overworked W&H stereo. Despite the nervous expectancy of the title, these twelve songs suggest Sam Shinazzi should be able to exhale and enjoy the fruits of a job well done. Here's to his next one.
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