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Sep 23, 2018







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Alan Getto, Versus (self-released)




Jason Loewenstein, Spooky Action (Joyful Noise Recordings)

Loewenstein, originally from Northampton, Mass., is nowadays based in Brooklyn, where he’s made a name for himself with Sebadoh, an indie band that had Dinosaur Jr.’s Lou Barlow on bass and tabled some great songs — for instance the punk-grunge barnburner “Flame” and the maudlin, strummy, Bon Iver-ish “Spoiled.” This is his first solo record in 15 years, a chance to bust out of his own mold, peg the lo-fi and just cook. “The One” rips the metaphoric cover off this aural Dodge Viper and peels out at Ramones speed with stripped-down punkabilly guitar and Big Black aggression, his Kurt Cobain karaoke vocal still in fine shape if a bit refined for the redneck resonance he wants to project, not that good singing is a bad thing or anything. Then you have the Pixies-on-angel-dust cacophony of “Navigate” before you’ve had a chance to sit, as if Redd Kross was back and relevant. Clear some drive space for this, absolutely. A+ 
— Eric W. Saeger




Alan Getto, Versus (self-released)
CD Reviews: 7/20/17

07/20/17
By Eric Saeger news@hippopress.com



 In a reminder that I really need to read my PR notes, my hipster-indie provider in New Yawk City dropped this into my feed, and upon seeing that it was indie-folk, I almost dumped it, expecting a cowboy-prostrated Tom Waits with some glitch or whatever. But this guy’s from Bedford, N.H., and the LP was recorded at Studio 101A in Amherst — by George, I’ve stumbled onto a local guy with an album Pitchfork might even write about at fiction-novella length. It’s very good stuff for what it is, mostly acoustic guitars, occasional harmonica/slide guitar/fiddle and some techie interludes, but the most notable thing is the overall effect, which is different from your Steve Gunns and people like that. This is like Layne Staley from Alice in Chains on a mellow tip, doing a songwriter/busker thing, Getto’s well-maintained, drawly baritone wrapping itself lazily around some pretty presentable hooks. There’s some clangy Tom Waits-ish rattling that goes on (“Same Old World”), but mainly it’s about next-level, almost Las Vegas-ish back-porch bliss. It wouldn’t be out of the question to see this guy doing things like outdoor hay-fests (hip ones I mean — or is that stupid to say?). B+ Eric W. Saeger






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