Desperation suits Geese. Over the past four years, the New York band has shown they can rock hard and sprawl wide with the best of them, but it wasn’t until vocalist Cameron Winter’s understated solo debut, Heavy Metal, that their emotional core truly surfaced. Much of that breakthrough rests on Winter’s voice: a slurred, strained warble that feels like overhearing both sides of an argument through thin apartment walls. He startles and disarms in equal measure—no one has ever muttered “fuck these people” in a piano ballad with quite as much ache.
That moment, from his 2024 single “$0,” captures Geese’s paradox perfectly: a band ambitious enough to aim high but skeptical of what ambition costs. Formed in high school, they’ve long seemed driven by the tension between potential and self-doubt—a creative push-pull that makes even their most accessible moments feel self-consciously offbeat. “Cowboy Nudes,” from 2023’s 3D Country, balanced a soulful FM-radio chorus with a barrage of unhinged exclamations that would’ve sent any label executive scrambling for the censor button.
With Heavy Metal’s surprise success, a lesser band might have followed the industry script—sanding off their edges and chasing classic songcraft. Geese, thankfully, do the opposite. Their third album, Getting Killed, is their strangest and strongest yet: anxious, fragmented, and gloriously alive. The opening chorus is a haywire scream—“THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR”—followed by a swaggering ode to “baby” and “forever.” Produced by Kenneth Blume (aka Kenny Beats), the record replaces clean rock structures with twitchy grooves and cycles of tension and release. Where Geese once sounded haunted by New York’s rock lineage, they now sound unbound by it.
Instead of chasing hooks, they build mantras. On “100 Horses,” Winter adopts the voice of a wartime general, declaring, “All people must die scared or else die nervous.” It’s grim, but somehow reassuring—an oddly catchy rally cry from a band that thrives in unease.
Many songs feel like extended fadeouts to imaginary anthems, stretching momentum until it collapses in cathartic release. “Husbands” and “Bow Down” showcase drummer Max Bassin’s rhythmic leadership as guitarist Emily Green and bassist Dominic DiGesu twist the songs into unexpected shapes: one soaring and communal, the other haunted and skeletal. Geese have found a rare balance—just as capable of unspooling into chaos as delivering festival-sized singalongs like “Taxes” or tender, offbeat love songs like “Half Real” (which, naturally, still drops the word “lobotomy”).
Recorded during California wildfires in Blume’s Los Angeles studio, Getting Killed carries that anxious atmosphere. Winter still prefers clipped dialogue to linear storytelling, but his phrasing—half plea, half punchline—keeps the record unpredictable. “I have no idea where I’m going… here I come,” he chants on closer “Long Island City Here I Come,” collapsing doubt into determination.
If Heavy Metal thrived on surprise—a quiet solo record that outgrew its expectations—Getting Killed is its inverse: Geese’s boldest, most idiosyncratic work arriving just as the spotlight finds them. There are trombones, a Ukrainian choir, even guest screams from JPEGMAFIA, yet what lingers is the same quality that’s always defined them: a restless, curious spirit unwilling to settle for polish or certainty. Geese aren’t chasing wisdom—they’re chasing the thrill of not knowing what comes next.
.webp/:/rs=w:1280)
About the Author
