Geese live in Bristol: frenzied, combustible energy and surging anthems
An electrical charge of anticipation crackles in the air at Geese’s first British date since last year’s Getting Killed album blew up, catapulting the youthful New York quartet from marginal noiseniks to breathlessly hyped, rapturously reviewed, newly ordained saviours of indie-rock. Packing out one of Bristol’s newest venues, a cavernous former factory with a semi-legal warehouse rave feel, this show feels like the vertiginous tipping point for a band now being touted as the New Strokes and the New Radiohead combined. So, no pressure then.
An electrical charge of anticipation crackles in the air at Geese’s first British date since last year’s Getting Killed album blew up, catapulting the youthful New York quartet from marginal noiseniks to breathlessly hyped, rapturously reviewed, newly ordained saviours of indie-rock. Packing out one of Bristol’s newest venues, a cavernous former factory with a semi-legal warehouse rave feel, this show feels like the vertiginous tipping point for a band now being touted as the New Strokes and the New Radiohead combined. So, no pressure then.
“Last time we were here we played a boat,” quips Geese’s gangly slacker frontman Cameron Winter, recalling their 2023 gig at the Thekla, a repurposed German freighter permanently anchored in Bristol harbour. As a gauge of their exponentially exploding profile, that venue holds 400 people; the Prospect Building over 3,000. In another barometer of their growing appeal, the audience is an impressively broad mix of ages and genders, from vinyl-collecting dads to indie-heartland students to pronoun-fluid queer kids.
Geese open this show as lurking shadows in low blue light, Winter’s face buried inside a hoodie. It’s the kind of self-effacing anti-showmanship move that a cocky young band on the cusp of proper fame can pull off. Sure enough, the crowd are soon engaged in mass arm-swaying to Emily Green’s cycling guitar motif as the clattering, clanking churn of “Husbands” gathers force into a slithering, muscular racket. “There’s a horse on my back,” Winter bellows in his rich, grainy, baritone croon, “but my loneliness is gone…”
There are a few flat moments early in the set. “Islands Of Men” and “Getting Killed” itself both trundle and creak a little. But most tracks build up a frenzied, exhilarating, combustible energy. “Half Real” is a ragged beauty, poised right on the edge of falling apart. “Bow Down” gathers speed into a sharp-angled no wave stomper, with Green jerking around the stage like a rag doll. And while the elegant, beat-skipping subtleties of “Au Pays Du Cocaine” do not quite translate in this blasting live arrangement, the heart-tugging Lou Reed-infused chorus really works. It takes a super-tight, focussed band to sound this sloppy but still hit the mark.
Beneath their surface sheen of Gen Z hipster irony and wilfully wonky avant-grunge noise, Geese’s most potent secret weapon is arguably a fluency with catchy melody and classic rock tropes. Growing in stature live, “Cobra” and “Taxes” achieve an almost Springsteen level of surging, chiming uplift in Bristol. Both galvanise the crowd into a collective roar, festival anthems lightly disguised in dishevelled post-rock clothes. And “2122” is a propulsive funky analogue blues explosion that owes as much to 1970 as 2026. While previous live outings have nodded to Pink Floyd and Can, tonight’s version morphs into Black Sabbath’s clobbering instrumental jam “Rat Salad”.
Disappointments? Winter’s signature deadpan humour is thin on the ground in Bristol, aside from one moment where he pretends to lose his rag with the crowd. “I can’t think with all this racket!” he barks. “Shut the fuck up!” A handful of newer songs that Geese have been road-testing at recent European dates are also sadly absent, notably the spare, hymnal piano ballad “Here My Angels Come” and the Kraut-leaning sci-fi groove “Apollo”.
All the same, this is a generally terrific show. It ends with the epic, shape-shifting, polyrhythmic spree of “Long Island City Here I Come” and the scorching quiet-loud jazz-metal banger “Trinidad”, which between them contain enough ideas for at least three albums.
Whether Geese will ultimately live up to the huge expectations is still an open question. Being tagged the New Strokes is a double-edged sword, after all, given how limited and conventional those former indie darlings proved following their stellar breakthrough. But Winter and co clearly have a much richer, more experimental hinterland which should sustain them even after the hype inevitably subsides. Their horizons are wide open.
SET LIST Husbands Getting Killed Islands Of Men 2122 / Rat Salad Half Real 100 Horses I See Myself Bow Down Mysterious Love Au Pays Du Cocaine Taxes Cobra Long Island City Here I Come ENCORE Trinidad
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