Geese – ‘3D Country’ review: New York rockers move into the big leagues

22 June, 2023

geese band

Brooklyn’s answer to the wave of weird, avant-garde art-punk that’s been brewing in Britain the last few years – think Black Country, New Road, Black Midi, and more recently, the likes of Opus Kink and English Teacher – is Geese: a five-piece guitar band consisting of high school friends. Initially intending to break up to head to university following the release of their stellar debut, ‘Projector’, they instead caught the attention of Partisan Records [Fontaines D.C., IDLES] before they’d even started the album campaign, and were swiftly being touted as punk’s prime new hype band.

READ MORE: With Geese at the wheel, NYC rock is entering a bright new era

Their second LP, ‘3D Country’, sees the recent NME cover stars shift to a more expansive sound. The album follows the story of an uptight cowboy as he wanders through the desert after taking psychedelic drugs, watching the world around him – and his concept of the self – unravel in the process. Opener ‘2122’ topples any previous expectations formed on the back of ‘Projector’, opting for classic rock-inspired guitars that expand into a theatrical, sprawling cacophony of jazz and country sounds.

Lead singles ‘Mysterious Love’ and ‘3D Country’ further twist expectations, with each track spinning in opposing directions. ‘Cowboy Nudes’, meanwhile, is quickly shattered by Cameron Winter’s yelping vocals and a frantic bongo solo. The title track on the other hand, is bolstered by a gospel choir, as lead vocalist Cameron Winter laments a “cowboy with a devil’s mind” in a country lilt. Dive deeper, and things get weirder still: ‘Crusades’, for example, is a slice of surf-pop atop a Strokes-like jangling riff.

The real standout is the seven minute-long ‘Undoer’. A mix of creeping bass, thrashing guitar and horror-movie screams, the track allows Geese to push boundaries until their sound near enough teeters off the edge. Yet what’s particularly striking about ‘3D Country’, however, is not the informed experimentation, nor is it Winter’s impressive vocal ability. It’s the subtle backdrop of horror: that hot, hot desert. This is an album made by young people who’ve – quite literally – watched the world burn before their eyes. What’s left is a cynical take on Americana in the age of an imminent climate crisis – one that proves Geese to be a genuine tour-de-force.