Album Review: Let Me Try Again by Sal Cammarata
Sal Cammarata’s Let Me Try Again is a smooth ride through contemporary jazz that feels like sipping espresso at a cozy Italian café. Released under C.R. Records and directed by Claudio Lo Cascio, this album brings together Cammarata’s soulful vocals and the lush arrangements of the Reinhardt Jazz Studio Orchestra. It’s not trying to reinvent jazz—it’s just doing it really, really well.
The tracklist reads like a love letter to jazz standards, but Cammarata makes these classics his own with subtle twists. Take “Fly Me To The Moon,” for example. You’ve heard it a million times before, right? But here, Cammarata gives it an understated warmth, almost like he’s whispering the lyrics instead of singing them. The orchestra doesn’t overpower; it glides gently in the background, letting his voice shine. There’s something about the way he stretches out “let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars” that sticks with you—like he actually believes it might happen.
Then there’s “Let Me Try Again,” the title track. This one hits different because it’s got grit. Cammarata sounds vulnerable yet determined, as if he’s pouring his heart into every note. The piano solo midway through is killer too—it’s simple but packs a punch, leaving enough space for the listener to feel the weight of the words. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself humming this long after the record ends.
Other tracks like “My Funny Valentine” and “Stella By Starlight” are solid, though they don’t stray far from their iconic roots. That’s okay, though. Sometimes sticking close to tradition works wonders, especially when the execution is this polished. Still, I couldn’t help wishing for a bit more experimentation on some cuts. A curveball or two would’ve been fun.
What struck me most about Let Me Try Again is how effortlessly it blends nostalgia with modernity. Sure, it leans heavily on timeless tunes, but Cammarata and Lo Cascio bring a freshness that keeps things interesting. Listening to it feels like revisiting old friends who somehow seem wiser now.
Here’s the unexpected part: despite its sophistication, this album isn’t pretentious. It’s approachable. Whether you’re a die-hard jazz fan or someone dipping their toes into the genre, Let Me Try Again invites you in without making you feel like an outsider. And honestly? That’s rare.
So grab a glass of red wine—or maybe even a Negroni—and let Sal Cammarata take you on a journey. Just don’t blame me if “Fly Me To The Moon” gets stuck in your head all week.
