Geese rocking Crescent Ballroom on Nov. 1, 2025, in Phoenix, Arizona.

Madison Haynie

Part of me wants to leave the article right there, leading a curious reader to simple victory as quickly as possible. Geese are the real deal, and they’re not waiting for us to notice.

The noise around the young New York City group has grown for years, since their conception in high school in 2016, really, but it seems that Geese is finally getting proper love and commotion on a massive scale. 

Personally, I can remember the exact moment when I realized how seriously we need to take Cameron Winter as an artist. The 24-year-old songwriter released his solo debut “Heavy Metal” at the end of 2024. While it was very nearly buried by the label, allegedly described by one rep as “not the album to get you out of your parents’ house,” Winter didn’t hesitate.

To put it plainly and maybe pretentiously, it’s a brave, emotional odyssey and a true creative triumph. I very clearly recall, luckily, shuffling into “Love Takes Miles” some springtime golden hour while walking through Chaparral Park with my dog. I got the chills pretty immediately, shivered and cried, and by the end of the first chorus, I felt clean and almost proud to be human. I listened to it three more times, reckoning with its heartening power, reconsidering his and the band’s place. To me, they were always fun and interesting. “Projector” and “3D Country” were seriously cool records, but I just didn’t fully comprehend his potential as an innovator. 

Geese performing to a packed house on Saturday, Nov. 1, 2025, in Phoenix.

Behind Winter, Geese has quickly become one of those “artists’ favorite artists,” garnering attention from the likes of Cillian Murphy, Nick Cave, and St. Vincent. If you are chronically online and are generously fed music by your algorithm, there’s even a good chance you’ve seen a meme about Winter’s hair. Rolling Stone called them “relentlessly innovative” and GQ called them “America’s Most Thrilling Young Rock Band.” It feels as though they are dubbed as Gen Z’s rock ‘n’ roll representatives.

“Getting Killed,” the band’s newest record, released in late September, grooves and blazes and breathes life into modern music. It’s creative without feeling contrived, and it’s instinctual while still carefully considerate. There’s humor and emotion among the natural structures of the stories, calling on chaos and calm as needed. If you had to assign it a single genre, you could call it post-punk, maybe pre-punk, above-punk for sure, but there are flavors of jazz, hardcore, funk and psych-rock, too. It’s possible that they were left alone on a desert island with Weird Al and Television CDs for an extended period of time. It’s MJ Lenderman for people who are fun to be around. They could be White Denim’s younger cousin who got into Gang of Four in college. 

More seriously, though, it is clear from the rhythms, textures and imagery throughout the record that this group has immutable taste, talent, and touch- suspiciously so for such young artists. And they don’t give in to nostalgia. It all feels new and real. Famed producer Kenny Blume (formerly Kenny Beats), who happily guided the new record, called the collection of young Brooklynites “genius freaks.” Cameron Winter has the posture of a quiet prophet, cooing and howling how he feels. Dynamic guitarist Emily Green shines when there’s euphoria and rolls when it’s weird. Bassist Dominic DiGesu sets the right tone every time. Drummer Max Bassin provides the spine to each song with perfect style. Same Revaz beautifully supplements the live show on keyboard. Together, Geese is a special group. Their evening at Crescent Ballroom justified all hope.

Geese’s drummer soaks in the vibe at Crescent Ballroom on Saturday, Nov. 1, 2025.

There were cute couples, Facebook dads and wild-eyed youth alike gathered in a Halloween hangover to witness the phenomenon. A handful of people either never took off costumes from last night or just tried sneaking in their regretful backup costume before all the pumpkins were boxed and packed away. It added to a potently mischievous air. A single TV beamed Game 7 of the World Series in the main bar, racking nerves of Dodgers fans and anti-Dodgers fans while other small pockets huddled and streamed it on a phone in the crowd. These felt like real reverent music fans, respectful, reserved and mostly hushed, waiting to witness what they knew to be honest artistic expression from Brooklyn’s brightest.

People noticeably hustled back and forth between bars and bathrooms and merch lines, unwilling to miss a moment. The last out was called on a phone screen at the bar, and the lights went down immediately. All were finally locked in on the band, who admitted they were also watching backstage before the music started. 

They opened with the mean bassline in “Husbands” and never looked back. There was foot tapping, arm twirling, hip swinging, face melting, near ankle breaking for one gentleman in the back, and a lighthearted mosh for those who partake. Those pretty couples swayed with sweet “Cobra.” Ripper “2122” broke into an impressive Iggy Pop cover. “Islands of Men” broke my heart for some reason I’m not looking to dive into right now. Classic “Cowboy Nudes” hit perfectly, giving the joyous crowd a chance to match Winter’s falsetto.

It was a two-hour affair, offering 16 tunes, including “Getting Killed” in its entirety. The highlight for me, though, was the finale, “Trinidad.” There we were, a sold-out ballroom full of baseball fans in Halloween’s wake, smiling and screaming “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR” with the frantic frontman who’s seemingly got the world in his hand. 

Geese is a band with a curious nature that has stretched, flexed, and worked onto the cultural pedestal. Whether they want to take the torch or shrug it off, they will be followed. They can make you dance, sing, yearn, laugh, and lose your mind, and they’re only going to get better at it. 

Yes, believe the hype.