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· Conor Welsch
Photo: Mark Sommerfeld
Every few years, a band appears that reminds you why guitars still matter. Geese is one of those bands.
They came out of Brooklyn’s DIY scene like a spark that landed on dry ground, the kind of sound that feels familiar but burns in strange colors. Their music moves between the sharp edges of post punk, the looseness of psychedelic rock, and the emotional sprawl of something larger, a band trying to figure itself out in real time.
Geese sound young in the best way possible. Restless. Fearless. Uninterested in fitting anywhere.
Geese began as a group of high school friends recording in a basement. That fact alone feels almost mythic now, considering how quickly they found themselves on the radar of major labels and critics.
Their debut, Projector, arrived in 2021 and immediately caught attention in the indie world. It sounded raw and confident, with jagged guitars and a rhythm section that always seemed ready to collapse but never quite did. You could hear influences like Television, Talking Heads, and The Strokes, but the band’s delivery was too chaotic and too alive to sound like imitation.
Frontman Cameron Winter sang like he was holding back a flood, his voice breaking and shifting mid phrase while the band built and broke tension underneath him. Projector was not clean, and that was the point. It was messy in the way real discovery always is.
Then came 3D Country, and everything expanded. Where Projector felt like the sound of a band trying to escape a basement, 3D Country felt like what happens when they step outside and find the world stranger than expected.
The record is ambitious, theatrical, and unpredictable. Slide guitars crash into country rhythms, gospel harmonies melt into noise, and Winter croons through it all like a rock preacher caught in a dream. It is a record that laughs at genre and maybe even at itself.
Their newest album, Getting Killed, finds Geese at their most daring yet. It sharpens the edge that 3D Country introduced and adds a darker, more cinematic focus. The songs are heavier, more deliberate, but still elastic. It sounds like a band stepping into their own gravity, confident enough to build and destroy in the same breath.
Getting Killed proves that Geese is not a band chasing identity. They are building one in real time.
Every generation needs a band that sounds like it is still figuring things out. Geese carries that energy. They are not polished or packaged. They are elastic and evolving, pulling from the past without ever getting stuck in it.
In a time when rock can feel overly curated, Geese feels alive. The imperfections are part of the draw. They sound like they are learning as they go, and we get to listen in.
If you are building a collection that reflects the more adventurous side of modern indie, Geese belong in it. Start with Projector for the raw tension, then move to 3D Country for the sprawl and swagger, and finish with Getting Killed to see how far they have come. Together, these records tell a story of growth that few modern bands can match.
Their music sounds incredible on vinyl. The warmth of analog brings out the grit, the breath, and the motion that digital sometimes smooths over. Every spin feels alive, like the band might change their mind halfway through.
Play Getting Killed in full. Sit with it. Let it challenge you. You will hear a band that refuses to stay still, pushing themselves further with every record.
Geese is proof that rock is still alive when it takes risks. Their sound is not revival. It is reinvention. And that makes them one of the most essential modern bands to collect right now.