A masterpiece belongs to the dead.

If sophomore records are the proving grounds for a band to demonstrate that their success is not merely fluke nor gimmick, then third records are tasked with elevating their core sound, rather than merely iterating upon source material. No band understands that lofty call to transcend what came before than New York-based four piece Geese, who cements themselves as Gen Z’s foremost rock frontrunner on their stunning LP3, Getting Killed. Following their meteoric rise to critical acclaim with 2023’s cowboy wasteland odyssey, 3D Country, the residential NYC quartet partners this time in-studio with the ever-prolific Kenny Beats, whose production polish never once clashes with the fang-worn grit that lead singer Cameron Winter boasts. In fact, Kenny’s presence only further complements Cam’s sonic evolution that accompanied his much-lauded solo debut from late last year, Heavy Metal.

Opener “Trinidad” is the most immediate and (literally) explosive of the trio of singles that followed the ramp-up to the record. Dominic DiGesu – whom last beat my Mario to a pulp with his Falco when beaming Smash Ultimate onto the pre-show stage screen at Music Hall of Williamsburg – provides a thick, slinking bassline upon which Winter’s vocals glide right along. Eruptive fits of instrumentation ooze chaos alongside a lyrical detonation: “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CARRRRRRRR!!!!” Follow-up “Cobra” dials back the intensity while upping the sincerity. Sultry crooning lends itself to some of the most tender Geese lyrics committed to record thus far – “Baby, let me wash your feet forever,” Winter pleads, unearthing his penchant for Acts of Service in the name of love. Emily Green‘s steady guitar line is more than enough to snake charm. Elsewhere on “Husbands,” Middle Eastern-style hand pats via Max Bassin‘s bongos set an uneasy scene whose clouds break with decadent spurts of jangly guitar. “Will you know what I mean?” Cameron intones alongside goosebump-inducing harmonizing. “And if my loneliness should stay/Some are loneliest that way,” he adds, in the wake of the subject’s husbands passing.

Speaking of getting killed, the title track is a thundering standout from frame one, beaming with jammy, finger-picked bravado and a dizzying, undecipherable choir chant lead that subsides as Cameron swaggers closer to the mic. He sings of delayed love, morning walks, and the difficulty of living in a postmodern world. “I can’t even taste my own tears/They fall into an even sadder bastard’s eyes,” he laments. Very few lead vocalists could deliver the line “I’m getting out of this gumball machine” as though it were the defiant victory it’s presented as here. Cowbell finds itself as a supporting texture, as the rhythm section in the back half hearkens back to the jubilant interplay of guitar and bass found on debut record, Projector. Long-awaited fan favorite, “Islands of Men,” finally arrives with a proper studio release, and it’s more glorious than one could hope. It’s hard not to read into the lyrics as an exploration of guitarist Emily’s relationship with gender identity. Cameron even begins outright with the line “You look green,” invoking her last name plainly. “You can’t keep womankind in your dreams,” serves as an outward plea to embrace her inner self, even in a world that demands submission to rigid, outdated societal norms. “I’m saying you just can’t keep running away/From what is real and what is fake, babe,” punctuated by a central question that slams on the brakes to process the totality of its importance – “Will you stop running away???” The song is capped off with silky, ear-worming repetitions of a single mantra: “Man is an island, man is an island.”

“100 Horses” barrels out the gate with an instantly iconic opening riff, replete with war-heavy imagery (Winter conferring with established generals in the art of Getting Killed). “All people must smile in times of war,” a sentiment that will surely be wiped off every smug face that eventually comes to know battle. War is hell, and we are living in it. Cameron comes to realize this himself (“All people in times of war must go down to the circus“). The daily circus of our modern moment, as heralded by fascist ringleaders, must be undercut by the unstoppable stampede of 100 dancing horses…maybe 124. “Half Real,” by contrast, is a softer, more seraphic cut. Breezy vocalizing, plinky piano plucking, and the potential of a lobotomy are all in the back and front of Cam’s mind as he contends with the possibility that the love he held with another was only half-real. “I have half a mind to just pay for the lobotomy and get rid of the bad times/And get rid of the good times, too./ I’ve got no more thinking to do.” The rhythm section and the frontman’s wails soar, concluding with an abrupt stop.

“Au Pays Du Cocaine” features pensive, glittering guitar, speckled with a downbeat bassline. The title is a cheeky spin on the French lemon business based in Menton, known as “Au Pays Du  Citron,” whose name translates to “In The Land of the Lemon.” The key noun substitution speaks volumes. Lyrically, Cam finds himself pleading with a partner about remaining together, and how it’s possible to retain individuality even while in a relationship: “You can stay with me and just pretend I’m not there/You can be free and still come home/It’s alright, I’m alright, you can change and still choose me.” The tension between freedom and being tethered is made summarily concise – “Like a sailor in a big green boat/Like a sailor in a big green coat/You can be free.” A torrential downpour of piano ushers in a manic instrumental outro. “Bow Down” continues the sailor thread (much like how tigers and horses recur, lyrically) in tandem with a named other – Maria. “I was a sailor, and now I’m a boat/I was a car, and now I’m a road/ And I was kneeling on the turnpike with an angel down my throat/ She said ‘you don’t know what it’s like to bow down, down, down to Maria’s bones.‘” Emily’s fretting glides confidently along, building to a spiraling finale.

Lead single “Taxes,” in the context of the record, fits like a glove. It’s perfectly paced as a moment to reckon with all the chaos and death that has unfolded thus far. Starting on hand-slapped percussion, Geese’s point man sets the stage: “I should burn in hell/But I don’t deserve this/ Nobody deserves this.”  Tax evasion has never sounded this fun. Climaxing with a sacred wall of sound, the tax man is not far behind as the lead singer has an epiphany – “I will break my own heart from now on.” Closer “Long Island City, Here I Come” differs from “Opportunity is Knocking” and “St. Elmo” by the nature of being a snarling, 7-minute, multi-phase extravaganza. Cameron Winter has arguably never donned such striking confidence as the one he wears in these breakneck final moments. “Nobody knows where they’re going except me,” he cries out over a frenzy of bongo pats. A veritable maelstrom of instrumentation is whipped up in the wake of the day music died, with the clouds breaking only briefly for a bass solo, followed by a guitar solo. The resulting fury is the culmination of several years of the quartet perfecting their relationships onstage and off. “Hang me from a yo-yo or a rope/And I’ll be hanging from my neck all the same/So too shall I reach Long Island City one of these days.” The memory of Maria is stirred on this pilgrimage – “Maria, cry out to me like Charlemagne or Vietnam/ Till I get home!” One final whirlwind guitar-led push for the finish line cements Getting Killed as a definitive stepping stone in the catalog of a band that refuses to stagnate. With these gargantuan 11 tracks, Geese  sits comfortably as the vanguard torchbearers of New York City rock.

Favorite Tracks: “Trinidad,” “Husbands,” “Getting Killed,” “Islands of Men,” “Long Island City, Here I Come.”

Listen to the record in full down below: