Geese’s ‘Getting Killed’ is Brooklyn band’s most accessible album yet

“Getting Killed” by Geese (Partisan)

There’s a bomb in my car!” Geese frontman Cameron Winter warns through blood-curdling screams on “Trinidad,” the opening track of the band’s third studio album. The song — which boasts a guest appearance from JPEGMAFIA — oscillates between croons over bluesy guitars to abrasive instrumentation that match Winter’s shrieks.

But the faint of heart need not be deterred. While interesting, “Trinidad” feels out of place on “Getting Killed,” the Brooklyn rock band’s most accessible record yet — despite its inventive deviations from traditional song structures.

That fits with Geese’s trajectory of late, following the distinct shift from the lo-fi post-punk of their early music to “3D Country,” their alt-country second studio album.

Track two on “Getting Killed” gives listeners a better sense of the album’s easy-listening fare, even if its lyrics are characteristically poignant and absurd. “Baby, you should be ashamed / You should be shame’s only daughter / Whatever he’s got in his hand / You can get it on your own,” Winter sings on “Cobra,” a ‘60s soul rock throwback.

But even as the album evokes a feeling of nostalgia, expectations are subverted.

Take “Islands of Men,” for example. Its intensity builds with the addition of trombones and assertive drums as Winter intones, “Will you stop / Running away / From what is real / And what is fake?” But the music completely stops about three and a half minutes into the five-minute track, then slowly resumes with barely audible lyrics and crescendoing instrumentation for the rest of the song.

The album’s titular track begins with upbeat chants and a bright, fuzzy guitar, contrasting the existential tension of the song’s message. “I’m getting killed by a pretty good life / I have been (expletive) destroyed by the city tonight,” Winter sings.

Although much of the album is comprised of nonsensical and irreverent lyrics so characteristic of Gen Z, Winter’s froggy voice adds a gravity to each song, even if the meaning is opaque.

“I knew a man / He sat behind a desk that was a million feet wide / But he laid down his hammer and he died,” he sings on “Long Island City Here I Come.”

But what Winter sings matters less than how he sings it. KRYSTA FAURIA, MDT/AP