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in winter..
.. it's like drinking black coffee trying to stay warm and keeping the cold out. the rain falls, the wind blows. some of you even get to see snow.in autumn..
.. it's a backyard in the suburbs, and hundreds leaves covering the green grass.in summer..
.. it's a night-time thing. out on the balcony (porch) with some beers and your friends.in spring..
.. it's the hope for a brighter day.Album Reviews
The C-Minus Project
Less Than Perfect Day
Drum Media (Sydney) 29th July 2003
This land of slo-core, or post-rock, or simply sweet melancholic
acoustic pop (pick your own currently
fashionable category title) is easily capable of falling into a rut
of indulgent self-pity. Sam Schinazzi's handy talent is, while much
of this album deals with love in the process of being lost, or just
remembered, it never falls into that well of just revelling in the
hurt being felt.
Hearts are often the currency in his songs, and the sound of one breaking is still probably the most powerful one in music, when handled honestly as it is here. Sam also helps his own cause by speaking directly, and simply: 'Touching you is so confusing'. And if you haven't had that feeling, you are either very lucky, or very unlucky. And just why is the cello an instrument so suited to the sadness of waking up alone? The rich sob of said stringed beastie seeps through the bedroom window at a couple of points, nicely contrasting Sam's perfect uncertainty in his voice, and the guitar or piano he's in conversation with.
There is also that seemingly obligatory country twang in a couple of places, particularly in the homage/tribute to Gram Parsons self-(and others)-destructive nature, GP. The blueprint artist for those who didn't quite work out fast enough that the pills and booze only fill the emptiness temporarily. But, The Project isn't all so downbeat, though that dark side is well-wrought. Sam can get downright close to jaunty at times, as in the honest self-consciousness of the sweetly dorky Goofy ('When it comes to you') which skips along something like Ben Lee without the pretensions. And that's got to be a good thing. We - and indeed Sam himself- know this is not going to sell a million copies. In today's musical world, it is just that bit too quietly honest, yet raw. It's not loudly proclaiming its personal angst as the central force of the universe - like so many of those American bands with boys in bad shorts. It's a rarer sound, like that friend who speaks to you without censoring their emotions. If you appreciate that, you'll appreciate this.
Ross Clelland