About two-thirds into last Saturday’s sold-out Geese concert in St. Paul, one member of the Brooklyn indie band’s intensely locked-in audience exclaimed, “Cameron fucking Winter!” It was during a break between songs, so everybody heard it. Some laughed, but at least one person protested. With perfect timing, they shouted, “There’s other people, too!”
The exchange echoed a familiar refrain — one that I’ve made myself — amid the ecstatic response to Getting Killed, the third Geese LP that already feels like a lock for “album of the year” status in 2025, at least among indie listeners. The album’s reception had been primed for months in advance by lead singer Cameron Winter’s solo record Heavy Metal, which arrived last December with little fanfare before gradually (and then quickly) becoming a word-of-mouth sensation. Before then, Geese was adrift in terms of critical and popular esteem, despite putting out one of the more exhilarating rock records in recent memory with 2023’s 3D Country, But after Heavy Metal, they were suddenly a hot property, though in the minds of some in attendance they were, apparently, The Cameron Winter Band. (Or, I guess, The Cameron Fucking Winter Band.)
But they’re not that. Geese is… Geese, a real unit in the classic “I thought they didn’t make ’em like this anymore” sense. They are also the band right now. That’s clear from the combustive alchemy achieved on Getting Killed, but it’s doubly apparent if you’re lucky enough to catch one of their remarkable live gigs this fall.
Picking up on the interaction in the audience, Winter stepped to the microphone. “I don’t know if I’ve ever introduced the band before,” he said. He then turned to his right and motioned to Geese’s guitar player, Emily Green, who on Getting Killed manages to split the difference between the nuanced textures of Jonny Greenwood and the “brown” audaciousness of Jimmy Page. After a few hype man-type words on Emily’s behalf, the audience erupted into a hero’s cheer: “Emily! Emily! Emily!”
Such was the mood on this particular stop of the hottest indie tour of the year. There might be bands that make more money or play bigger venues or garner better (or at least equally good) reviews in 2025. But in terms of juice — that intangible but indisputable feeling that you are witnessing a show you’ll still be talking about in 10 or 20 or even more years — then it’s hard to think of any act in the indie space that can touch Geese at the moment.
This can, for instance, be quantified by the sorts of ticket prices that brokers (i.e. scalpers) are asking for on the secondary market. Nearly $1,200 per general admission ticket in Detroit. Between $900 and about $1,150 in Los Angeles. In Madison, the $250 ticket price must have seemed like a steal. In each case, it’s obvious that the rapid scaling up of Geese’s popularity has swiftly exceeded the venues they were booked into this season. And this has just as obviously created a sense of urgency that’s compelled some fans to consider sacrificing part of their monthly rental money to see this band right as they enter the peak of their powers. If you love Geese, seeing them now, in 2025, on the Getting Killed tour, is a top priority.
I wish I could somehow counteract all that hype and, in the spirit of fiscal responsibility, lower the temperature. But I’m afraid I can’t. I caught them in 2024 open for King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, but that was in an arena and a relatively short set. Seeing Geese headline a club packed with eager acolytes, meanwhile, was an entirely different ballgame. It has to be one of my very favorite live experiences of the past several years. If I hadn’t seen Oasis play an epic reunion concert at Wembley Stadium this summer, Geese would, hands down, be my top rock show of the year. But even with that Oasis gig, a concert I had looked forward to for literally years, Geese is awfully, awfully close. It’s one thing to see an old favorite make an unlikely comeback. It’s another to witness a group of extremely talented musicians in their early 20s who are creating a legacy in real time.
Now, to be clear, I recommend not going into debt just to buy a ticket to a rock concert. But seeing Geese last weekend in a club reminded me why I still care about seeing rock bands in clubs. Sometimes it’s fun and sometimes you wish you had stayed home. But when it works — and I mean really works — it can be just about the most exciting thing you can imagine.
The key here, again, is that Geese is a band. The kind of band where you can zero in on any member and be captivated. Where each person contributes something vital musically while looking cool as hell in the process. Along with her attributes as a player, that mix of subtle flourishes and hot-dog riffs, Emily Green also has a natural charisma that’s shared by bassist Dominic DiGesu and especially drummer Max Bassin, Geese’s instrumental MVP. On stage, more than on record, that rhythm section gives the music a level of propulsion that’s more akin to the ’90s Red Hot Chili Peppers or even prime-era Zeppelin than a normal 2020s era indie outfit. (“100 Horses” live really does sound like 100 horses stampeding.) Nobody lumps them in with post-hardcore bands like Turnstile or Militarie Gun, but Geese in a live setting really does inspire multiple mosh pits. (The most furious was during “Trinidad,” the chaotic opening track from Getting Killed.) It’s a far cry from the singer-songwriter indie-folk that has dominated this space since the late 2010s, and a necessary antidote to that somewhat stagnant sound.
Speaking of singer-songwriters: I can no longer refrain from talking about Winter, who in spite of everything I just typed is unquestionably the star of the show. So much so that you already sense him downplaying his ample magnetism on stage. In St. Paul, he strode out in a hat and sunglasses, like he was trying to hide in plain sight. But as the 75-minute show progressed, he eventually shed the disguise as well as some of the polarizing vocal affectations from Getting Killed. In person, on songs like “Half Real,” the beauty of his voice is frankly stunning; Even after listening to the record countless times, I was taken aback by the IRL experience of that gnarled tenor filling the room. He really is the best young lead singer I can remember from at least the past decade, both in terms of vocals and presence. He’s so good that I wish he only did that, instead of also playing guitar. His skill set calls out — nay, demands — for him being a stand-alone frontman. (Geese this tour is already joined by touring keyboardist Sam Revaz. Might a touring guitarist also be in the cards?)
Of course, I wouldn’t want to mess with the magic of what’s happening with Geese on stage this tour. If this is what works, this is what works. As the show progressed, I kept waiting for a bum note or slack pacing. Something that might screw up the spell they were casting. But everything just… fell exactly where it needed to be. They capably handled the intricacies of “Husbands” and “Au Pays du Cocaine,” and then they pivoted to setting the room on fire with “Getting Killed” and “2122.” The vibe was loose and relaxed, but they were clearly very well-rehearsed and tight as a clenched fist. And while they appear ready to be stars, they weren’t pandering for it. Instead, they manifested greatness, in a way that’s hard to describe but impossible to miss when you see it.
By show’s end, after Winter introduced the rest of his band, the camaraderie on stage extended to the people in the audience. What had happened was undeniable. We were all in this together now. This was a special occasion, and we knew it.