It’s nightfall and the city of Bristol is in a fervour. Geese are the most talked about new band of this decade, lauded as our generation’s saviours of the indie rock genre. For their first public UK date since the release of Getting Killed Geese graced Prospect Building on Friday 20th March. The hype is more than well justified.
Next up, Geese take the revelry to Coachella and Primavera Sound – sure to be unmissable. For now, we cast our minds to the life-affirming performance when a tight band orchestrated a messy mosh pit and truly visceral response from the front of the crowd.
Geese, noun: honking aggressive water dwellers, also: broody rock gods from Brooklyn. They open with Husbands in Bristol; the band, led by vocalist Cameron Winter, are laid back but all the more impactful for it as they play this mournful off-kilter track. With guitarist Emily Green, drummer Max Bassin, bassist Dom DiGesu and touring keyboardist Sam Revaz, this band is magic. Buoyed by minimalist staging, the atmosphere is completely geared towards music, that sensuous enjoyment, rather than theatrics. Geese’s sound is compelling, clear and accurate, almost uncannily similar to the recordings, each intentional rough shout or sonic tumble preserved.
Guitar rhythms expertly stretch out to mingle with Winter’s deep unbridled vocals and Bassin’s hammering drums. 2122 leads us into the first pit, by the time we’ve made it closer to the front. Almost on the barrier the mood is naturally carnal, sweaty, intimate as chopping instruments lead racing hearts below, bodies tumbling into each other. The sweat slicks on the crowd’s faces look like tears. Tears of ecstasy. Geese’s perfectly chaotic rock sonics, a new frontier. This is the ticket to have on a Friday night; the noisiness is cathartic but also holds a deeper significance. To commune, party, rebel and enjoy ourselves to the growls of the artistic new guard is powerful as well as deeply human.
At certain moments the spiralling white lights on stage catch behind Winter to create a sort of silhouetted halo not dissimilar to the 2025 album artwork, as he artfully projects. The whole band’s musicianship is seemingly effortless. To see Geese is to witness the unwilling prophets of a new era in sound, one that’s not manufactured nor garishly polished. Roars, huge drum solos and wobbly subtle electronics clash beautifully – we want all of it in our ears, to absorb it, to taste it. Banger Cobra gives way to a sprawling drum solo on Bow Down. For a good hour everything is right with the world.
This concert is an antidote to the sterility of much of modern life, particularly for those in offices. Forget touching grass, we need to touch dirt. When their encore comes around Winter teases us, his taut voice repeating “wait, wait, wait” to finally descend into Trinidad as the crowd matches with a yell “There’s a bomb in my car!”. The band seem down to earth, far from putting themselves on a plinth. To inspire with closeness is a power indeed.
