(Credits: Far Out / Geese)
Sat 24 January 2026 19:35, UK
It’s a rite of passage for culture to claim music has been ‘saved’ when a new band comes along and excites the masses. In 2025, that was Geese, who, despite being two albums in already, with the previous 3D Country being equally worth the praise as Getting Killed, were thrust forward as the saviours of modern indie.
I can’t lie, it was encouraging to see a band of alternative misfits climb the column inches of the new digital world. While their music was revitalising and contemporary, speaking directly to this modern landscape, something about them felt inherently throwback. It felt as though, almost for a brief moment, regardless of the social media hubbub that existed around them, that this was a band playing on a big stage before the days of mass phone recording and bite-sized internet moments.
A crucial moment for the music scene, for fans willing to dive deeper than the surface upon which these Geese swim, they will be spoiled by an embarrassment of riches. Sure, music might not be as lucrative and extravagant as the classic rock days were told stories of, but that injustice hasn’t scared any crucially talented voices; in fact, it has encouraged them.
One of the bands carving their own niche in a similar fashion is Gurriers. Their apocalyptic brand of post-punk at times feels like Geese, only angrier. They view the world in a similar fashion to the New York band, which is astutely noting acts of moral corruption with the sort of contemporary passion that represents much of their community.
On ‘Des Goblins’, they confront “apathy and self-obsession in the face of impending destruction, particularly to do with the effects of climate change and war and people being too obsessed with themselves and their online personas to be able to see the wood for the trees”.
Cameron Winter performing with Geese in 2025. (Credits: Tim Nagle / Geese)
Their ability to do so is rooted in a similar sonic sensibility as Geese. On drums, Gurriers’ Pierce Callaghan provides a raucous backdrop of rolling thunder that makes for a musical assault on society all the more compelling, and feels as fascinating as Geese on ‘Trinidad’ and ‘Taxes’.
Then there is the more tender outlook of the New York band. On Getting Killed, they sharpened their ability to put Winter’s observations on a more delicate backdrop, with tracks like ‘Au Pays Du Cocaine’. A band who recently showcased similar nuance was Honeyglaze, on their most recent album, Real Deal.
The album was packed with dynamism, changing tact constantly, while boasting a coherent and consistent voice, especially in vocalist Anouska Sokolow. The softer moments like ‘Cold Caller’ feel tender and angular all at the same time, while the upbeat singles ‘Pretty Girls’ and ‘Hide’ feel glitchy and unpredictable, in a way that champions their live show.
Then there is Wednesday, who, in the very best way possible, boasts the sort of messiness Geese fans revel in. Because the world Wednesday, Geese and all of these bands are operating right now is one of tardiness, malaise and extreme unpredictability, so why shouldn’t the music follow suit and in fact, find the beauty in that?
Guitar distortion marries with the delicacy of Karly Hartzman’s voice to paint a true picture of art in this troubling era, but like Geese, it punctuates the murky air of that uncertainty with a quiet sense of hope.
There is a whole lot of quiet hope in the music industry right now, not systemically, for that seems to be continually designed against burgeoning artists, but artistically. Despite it all, some of the very best and vital music is being created, and while Geese might be the loudest voices in that regard, they certainly are not the only ones.
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