Geese are the saviours of rock ‘n’ roll’s new grown-up chapter
I hate to break it to you, but you are a cliché.
You’re not alone, though. We are all clichés, in fact, in a modern world so incessantly satirical, to an almost meta level, every unique facet of our personality falls into some sort of internet-fuelled category. So, within that, you’ve probably doomscrolled your way into a pit of societal criticism, that’s told you that being a Geese fan is a fundamentally clichéd way to live your life.
I grappled with that reality as I funnelled my way into the first gig of their highly anticipated UK tour. Rubbing shoulders with hundreds of my supposed performative male counterparts, weakly giving in to the pressure imposed on me by internet commentators who tell us that in the end, we don’t have any autonomy over our identities.
By anaesthetising ourselves to the endless shit that surrounds us, we buy into this false logic. But let’s remember that cultures and movements have existed long before internet meme pages found a way to satirise them, with identities and trends following art, led by vitally important artists. Maybe Doc Martens have been replaced by Salomons, or denim replaced by Gore-Tex, but the feeling, which has never been more palpable than at a Geese gig, has always been the same.
In rock and roll’s endless resistance against extinction, a threat that, according to every new generation of parents, is beckoning, we’ve had fans who have been resolute in their defence. At the turn of the millennium, it was Arctic Monkeys whose hype was so hysterical they even told you not to believe it. Then the drab decade of 2010s indie was salvaged by Fontaines DC, who fought nostalgia’s growing influence on music culture with every fibre of their musical being.
But the tides of music change quickly, as they always do. The Irish band, along with Charli XCX’s ‘Brat Summer’ retreated back, leaving a void on the shore that angsty modern music fans demanded be filled. Cynics worried that hyper-pop would fill its place, soundtracking the digital apocalypse that awaits us all.
But then a swell began to rise on the horizon, building like a wall of noise that eventually crashed over this broken world in September of 2025. For many, it felt like an unexpected tsunami of creativity, while for others, who had quietly watched Geese hone their craft on their first two records and Cameron Winter perfect his songwriting status on Heavy Metal, this was the 50-year storm that they had been hopefully forecasting on their cultural weather charts.
I was ready for it to rain over me in the minutes preceding their stage arrival. Westside Cowboy, who are caught up in their own domestic storm, served as the perfect support act for the American band, providing a level of justified hype to a sea of fans who watched with similar curiosity.
We waited, a mass of what would have looked like an army of transfixed cult members to a corner of cynical internet commentators, but in reality, it was a sea of dreamers. A collection of music fans who so desperately wanted to believe the hype that surrounded this relatively mysterious band, wondering if it was truly the musical answer to whatever questions we had. Could this be the band of our times? Could this be our moment? In being here, lucky enough to get a ticket when many of our peers were desperately trying to barter for one, had we escaped all that existed outside?
As Geese emerged onto a relatively muted and dimly backlit stage, it was time to find out. Almost like a prime Lennox Lewis, Winter led the band forward with his hood up, covering all parts of his face and leaving only his mouth out of the shadows. A mouth that would refreshingly say nothing at all during the entire set besides the lyrics he had written in his relatively short yet triumphant career.
While the tension was at fever pitch, ready to pop with the imagined suitable opening of ‘Trinidad’ or ‘Getting Killed’, the engine actually started ominously ticking with ‘Husbands’. It was unexpected, but by the time the chorus arrived, one of the most soulful sing-alongs of my recent memory erupted. The 3000-strong harmony that ensued captured every charming essence of that song’s original form, with imperfect voices cracking over one another enough to create something painfully real and shared between otherwise disconnected strangers.
The show thereafter followed suit. Jam-led ‘Islands Of Man’ saw this tide of sound wash over the thirsty crowd, before a truly raucous middle section of songs followed up. Mutterings of how good the drummer was circled the air, boldly backed up by Max Bassin’s unhinged performances on ‘2122’ and ‘100 Horses’.
From my view, there was barely a phone in sight. Winter’s elusive stature ultimately prevented anyone from getting the bitesize clips that you may think baseless Geese fans would want to post to their peers, but I quickly learned that such a fan doesn’t even exist. Limbs were in the air, heads were rolling on shoulders, and voices were suitably strained. If this was supposed to be a cliché, why did no one care what they looked like?
The bands ‘hits’ – ‘Cobra,’ ‘Taxes’ and ‘Au Pays Du Cocaine’ – were as close to a predictable moment as the spontaneous show delivered. But ultimately, that predictability came in the form of widespread enjoyment and earnestness to the singalong of: “You can stay with me, and nobody would care.”
There are thousands of things to be obsessed with in modernity. The manosphere, crypto and Love Island are all equally as utilised in personality traits and look how far that has got us all. So, really, is it so bad that the world has fallen head over heels in love with a band whose music wholly warrants it?
The myriad of truly terrible options that have befallen us all in recent artistic times have been swept aside in a desperate human need to feel something good and worthwhile again. Naysayers share a lingering suspicion that people only like them because everyone else does… but that collective momentum is arguably central to their appeal. Ultimately, that hype is part of the point. Enjoying music is inextricably linked with sharing it with your peers, and the Geese live show is triumphant evidence of that.
I had many worries before I went into the gig. Fears of being a cliché were merely cosmetic concerns as I sought to understand my surroundings, but in recent years, I had manifested a genuine fear about the world we were leaving to our youth. As it turns out, the kids are all right.
