Geese - Getting Killed
Geese is putting Gen-Z Rock in the spotlight.
The Brooklyn-based indie rockers are back for their third studio album, Getting Killed, and before I give my full thoughts on the record, I want to pause for a moment and say that there’s never been a better time to be a Geese fan.
I was introduced to the group through their sophomore album, 2023’s 3D Country. I was instantly taken aback because I heard something in this project that I haven’t really noticed in modern rock albums: nostalgic revivalism done correctly. These musicians, who are about my age, are not only making music popular among listeners in their early to mid-20s, but extending their sound across different territories of art-rock, indie, blues-rock, post-punk, and more, so that any alternative rock fan can get invested.
What amazes me about their first two albums is that no matter what style the band chooses to take, they don’t take themselves too seriously. There’s always going to be some aspect of a Geese project that revels in melancholy, like something is missing and they’re trying to voice this feeling in a way that feels natural, yet not overtly serious. The poetic, sometimes off-kilter lyrics on their best tracks have me glancing over and over because there’s so much more I can dig up about the band outside of their unique, nostalgia-coated atmosphere.
However, on Getting Killed, the band is simultaneously sticking to their guns and treading on different territory throughout every track, making it their most dynamic and diverse release yet. I came in with no expectations for how this thing would sound, but the band manages to take their sound and expand it to new levels. Regardless of whether I enjoy this more on the same level as their last album, technically, lyrically, and performance-wise, this feels like a major step up from everything they’ve done so far.
I believe a few factors contributed to this “step up”: the critical reception of their two albums, their live performances sounding more fleshed out and in-the-moment, the success of frontman Cameron Winter’s solo singer-songwriter album, and hitting a new peak of popularity with Gen-Z’ers across TikTok. They’ve accomplished a lot in the years between their last project and this new one. Getting Killed is a harmonious combination of all they’ve achieved as a band and more.
Thematically, Getting Killed refers to the death of something, a personal part of you that is lost metaphorically, and you’re trying to get back. With it arises paranoia and loneliness. And while the writing might take more than a few glances to wrap your head around (seriously, there’s some absurd quotables all over this record), it comes from a natural place of mental unrest, but has the charm to keep listeners’ ears engaged.
The album kicks off with “Trinidad,” and from the start, we see this unrest intensify and permeate every section of the track. The verses start quietly, almost timidly, representing that something inevitable and tragic is about to happen, until the instrumental explodes at every refrain with Cameron screaming, “There’s a bomb in my car!” We may not guarantee that the song’s about a literal explosion, but the way the tension lingers in the backseat before spreading over feels apocalyptic. In the third verse, Cameron rambles, “My son is in bed. My daughters are dead. My husband is burning lead.” This caught me off guard on first listen. Still, these absurdist lyrical moments only amplify the emotions throughout the album, lending them a larger-than-life quality without being too serious about them.
“Cobra” follows the opener, and it’s the first major change of pace on the record. This one almost feels like a callback to 70s dance rock that would play at an empty club. The mellowness of the track serves as a much-needed contrast to “Trinidad,” as on this track, Cameron imagines a metaphorical love that “makes the cobras dance” before he does. And from here, we see this melancholic state of mind develop interestingly. The band doesn’t feel trapped in the subject matter around these tracks. Still, they know how to free themselves lyrically and instrumentally enough, almost like they’re dancing around the serious aspects.
Then “Husbands” is another cool-down on the tracklist, and it’s a bit more straightforward than most of the songs. Lyrically, Cameron is analyzing the traditional relationship between two lovers, but takes a spin asking this love interest, “Will it wash your hair clean when your husbands all die?” In this short piece, Cameron is manifesting his loneliness by romanticizing the situation in a way that is hard to grasp on first listen. But the two-note riff the band hangs on allows Cameron’s imagery to expand into something meaningful.
The title track, unlike “Husbands,” is a frenetic and overstimulating five-minute journey. It basically serves as their thesis statement, as on the tail end of the track, Cameron is wailing, “I’m getting killed by a pretty good life.” And how the song progresses to this point of realization is fascinating. The rambunctious walls of noise and group vocals that surround the first two-thirds of the track, combined with Cameron’s yelpy vocal performance, culminate in a mellow resolution that is instrumentally soothing. The combination of genres throughout this track specifically makes it a thrilling one to return to, even if it is a bit much to stomach.
“Islands of Men” follows this up, and unlike most of the tracklist, I’ve heard this song before. The band has been playing this song on the road for nearly two years, changing up certain sections of the six-minute piece and re-structuring instrumental passages. But on the official studio recording, I’m happy to say the band hit the nail on the head. Cameron is again addressing his insecurities from the perspective of someone trying to figure out who they are. In the second half, the band is jamming while Cameron repeatedly rambles, “You can’t stop running away from what is real and what is fake.” For most of these songs, it feels like there’s a dark, underlying truth that the band tries to cover up in their own way. But this is the first time on the record where caution is thrown at the listener, reminding them not to be ignorant of real life, suggesting they can’t keep running away.
“100 Horses” is an art-rock rager moving at breakneck speed. The post-apocalyptic aura the band paints imagines someone going to war and wrestling with the emotions of not wanting to die and getting over fear. One of the refrains ends with a general telling Cameron, “All people must die scared or else just die nervous.” The inevitable is the inevitable during wartime, and with this track, all sense of normalcy is stripped away. There’s no use in letting the anxiety overtake you because you’re either dying in combat or at home. Even if the band is trying to be more lighthearted around sensitive situations, it’s difficult to ignore the paranoia radiating throughout Cameron’s voice.
From here, the album has two back-to-back ballads that help smooth out the flow of tracks. However, I would say that the former one, “Half Real,” is underwhelming at best. It’s not a bad track at all; thematically, it slides right in within the record, but the themes and lyrics are not as effective here with the somewhat disjointed groove.
But the latter track, “Au Pays du Cocaine,” is heartbreaking. The first time this track spun, the messages were simpler to understand, but the way the band structures and fleshes out these manifestations of loneliness is nothing short of soul-crushing. Lines like “You can change and still choose me,” or “You can stay with me and just pretend I’m not there” expand to make this song dive headfirst into Cameron’s isolation state, making it the most serious moment on the project. However, the mellow instrumental contrast and the slight crescendo of tension during the final minute reveal the unrest lying beneath this track. It’s a slow one, but one of my most replayed Geese tracks, period.
The pace picks back up on the following “Bow Down,” where lyrically, Cameron speaks about the idea of forfeiting to something greater than him. The band is working at lightning speed, incorporating some heavy krautrock grooves that lead into a satisfying instrumental breakdown at the end. And while the atmosphere the group conjures is all over the place, it’s a tense moment that screams finality, like all sense of normalcy will soon fade.
But then the penultimate track, “Taxes,” which was the first teaser single to the album, might be my favorite song on here. For the three minutes that this track lasts, the band starts quietly and steadily paced, as Cameron is nervously singing about how he doesn’t want to “burn in hell” or do something as simple as paying taxes. But how the band shifts from this mellow section before rambunctiously exploding at the track’s midway point is something to behold. The screams of “Doctor, doctor, heal yourself!” against this hefty breakdown make the message of the track hit much harder. It’s a great way to raise the tension high enough before the band releases it all on the final track.
“Long Island City, Here I Come” closes the album out, and it’s the longest track at nearly seven minutes, but never does it lose my interest. This thing is an adrenaline-spraying epic where Cameron’s emotions are entangled in a mess. In it, he’s recounting the tragic lives of real and fake people he imagines meeting, only to realize he needs to escape somewhere from this madness to reach a point of fulfillment. This premise, while vague and far-fetched, is filled to the brim with urgency, as the consistent fast drum patterns and elongated buildups surrounded by Cameron’s absurdist poetry are enough to keep me on edge for the full runtime. It’s a mouthful of a closer, but it deserves the space to develop into something huge, and the band works this ambitious piece to tie the album up at a pretty open-ended finish.
Getting Killed is not the Geese album that I expected, but I’m more than satisfied. This subverted my expectations of what the band’s sound is and where they take it from here. On this project, Geese hone in on their technical prowess more than ever. And even if it’s not as zany or lighthearted as their last two records, this album still sounds more outlandish than 80% of new rock music I’ve heard in the past five years, so take that as you will.
The band has never experienced this much popularity amongst the Gen-Z crowd until this point, and I hope their rise continues to help gather rock fans of new and old generations. If you would like more excitement and zaniness out of your alternative rock diet, consider adding Geese to the queue.
Favorite Tracks: Trinidad, Husbands, Getting Killed, 100 Horses, Au Pays du Cocaine, Bow Down, Taxes, Long Island City, Here I Come
Least Favorite: Half Real
8.5/10
