Geese Interview

Less brooding, more weird voices: the band’s second act swaps serious post-punk shadows for playful chaos.

I’m on a Zoom call with the lead singer of the New York-based band Geese, Cameron Winter. “Not quite as much dick and balls on this one,” he says in response to my praise of the video for the song Cowboy Nudes. He’s in a bowling alley in Yonkers, shooting a video for one of the tracks from their latest album 3D Country.

“It doesn’t make much sense financially at all,” he continues. “It’s really just throwing money in the toilet.”

I tell him how much I love the new album. “We worked hard on it, you know. It’s different from Projector. I think it was the best we could do over the last two years or so. It’s our best shot.”

I bring up the dreaded word: pandemic.

“Like everybody, we just couldn’t play shows. I mean, I guess the album was sort of pandemic related, but it’s more — it’s a little bit beyond the scope of the pandemic. In some ways, it was a blessing in disguise just because it gave us time to consciously develop ourselves as a band. We sucked at our instruments right about when labels were taking an interest. So, it was great that they couldn’t see us play live. It definitely was kind of a blessing.”

Up to this point, I hadn’t seen his face and none of his bandmates had joined yet. I was staring at a black screen.

What was the recording process like on this album? I ask, as a mop of hair appears briefly on the screen and then promptly disappears.

“We were listening to a lot of records when we were writing that are so tight. I think the biggest thing is we wanted to make the record musically as tight as we could, so we practiced the songs relentlessly before we went into the studio. It was two straight months of us practising the songs over and over again. So, by the time we went into the studio, we knew how to play them, which was good, because when we did Projector, we would learn the song right before we recorded it, record it, and that’s what you hear on the record. It was definitely a different process.”

I can see someone else is trying to join the call. It’s Max Bassin, the drummer. As he comes in, I ask what musically tight records they were listening to during the recording.

“Just a lot of old stuff, honestly, like just 70s studio smut stuff. A lot of Ween, which I feel emboldened us to give more of a sense of humour to the stuff. Projector was trying to be very serious — everything’s dark and reverbed out. But on this, I wanted more of a sense of fun.” He pauses. “I think the vocals definitely got a lot weirder on the album just because I discovered a love for weird vocal affectation.”

“I feel like Radiohead is one of those ones where all of us independently like grew up on it,” Max chimes in. “They’re in our DNA to a degree. I feel like I’m always really scared that we’re just going to sound like Radiohead because so many bands try to sound like Radiohead, and it doesn’t work. It was the same thing with the Beatles. I know when we were doing this record, everyone was rediscovering the Beatles simultaneously. That was also very important, I think.”

What about at the moment? I ask.

“Scott Walker. Max and I are listening to a lot of Scott Walker. A ton of Scott Walker,” Cameron says, just as Foster, the drummer, joins the call. They put him on the spot and ask what he’s listening to.

“I was just out getting coffee and talking to Cameron about this yesterday. I have been going through a bit of a Blonde On Blonde phase,” he says. “Bob Dylan’s so good at building a whole song around one lyric. It’s great,” Cameron adds.

I can sense these guys are close, so I’m curious how it all began.

“Cameron and I have known each other since lower school,” Max says. “We must have been going to school together since we were three or four. We became friends around third grade, and then we realized that we were really into music and then started a band. And we knew Emily our other guitarist, from middle school as well. And then they left and went to school with Foster. And then they made the grand ol’ connection, and everyone has been friends ever since.”

He continues, “But this band started as Cameron and I were going to record music or try to. I don’t know if we had definitive plans to play it live or anything. So, it just slowly evolved. Then Emily joined, Dominic joined, Foster joined, and then we recorded Projector in our senior year. So, we were like a full-fledged band for a couple of years before doing Projector. Not a good band, but we were a band.”

Any bitter ex-members who wish they were still in the band? I ask.

“I was going to say we’ve been pretty lucky on that front. I think we’ve only added, not removed,” Max says.

“Remember that first, first band that we had, Max?” Cameron pipes up. “We had that song Good Night Incarnations. What were we called, man? Oh, the Nine Volts. The Nine Volts.”

“Wait. I never heard about the Nine Volts,” Foster says, slightly surprised. “This is like prehistoric shit. I don’t know if we’ve brought this up in an interview yet. Deep, deep middle school. I had a freewheeling approach to songwriting at that point. It was some of my best work. Who doesn’t know the song Good Incarnations? I mean, it’s been played at every wedding since 2003,” Cameron jokes.

“Big fan of that name for a while,” Max adds. “That’s really waist-deep in sixth grade. Fifth grade was my year. I guess people say there are three Nine Volt members who are probably pretty upset.”

And the name Geese? I ask.

“We had played a show when we were in, like, eighth grade,” Max says. “We had formed the band and wrote a bunch of songs just to play this show. We played with the placeholder name of Opolis. As the show ended, someone in the crowd was like, ‘What’s your guys’ name?’ And everyone was like, ‘We don’t have one yet,’ and at dinner that night, we came up with the name Geese. That is a very, very long-winded answer. But yeah, Emily, our guitarist’s nickname in high school was Goose.”

I tell them I thought they liked geese or something.

“I’m not a big fan of the bird,” Max says. “Not a top-tier bird. A little devious.”

Cameron says he’s got to go and get back to the video shoot and logs out, so I ask Max and Foster how they feel they fit into the lineage of New York and Brooklyn bands.

“I checked out that documentary that just came out, Meet Me in the Bathroom,” Max says. “I was a big Strokes fan when I was in middle school and high school. And you know, same with Interpol and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and everything. I think my thinking with the New York ‘scene’ is — I heard Kurt Cobain saying something kind of similar about the Seattle scene. He was like, you know, there’s a lot of bands that are out right now, and there always have been, and there always will be. And I think it’s trying not to focus too much on what came before you or what’s going to come after you. We made a lot of friends with a lot of bands that are here, but I wouldn’t say that we’re part of any real scene, you know. People look at us like they did the Strokes or the Yeahs when they came out. I mean, it’s definitely cool because I grew up listening to that shit. But also, it’s not something that we focus on.”

Foster continues,

“I think the scene that we get lumped into in terms of bands that we get compared to is the Windmill scene. And, you know, a ton of people always compare us to Squid and Black Midi and all those bands. The Windmill scene — that is a scene, you know. There are these bands all living near each other. They all know each other. They play shows together, which is what you would think of when you think of, for instance, the Seattle grunge scene. All those bands knew each other, and all those bands played together. But back then, there wasn’t really this music streaming service that just lumped it all together. Because it’s like, we get lumped in with those bands, and they all know each other. And it’s just funny because we’re just sitting on the outside, on the other side of the ocean.”

“Yeah, we briefly talked to a couple of those bands,” Max says, “but don’t really have any personal relationship with them. Outside of the fact that I think all our debut records have a strong sense of post-punk. I remember the first couple of Black Country, New Road singles were just out. And I remember the original nine-minute version of Sunglasses was out, and we were in the basement, and Cameron was like, ‘Have you heard of this band Black Country, New Road?’ And I was like, no. And so, he plays Sunglasses. Initially, I was like, what the hell is this? Isaac’s voice was so strange to me the first time I heard it.”

I find this fascinating — that due to music streaming services they’ve found a virtual scene on the other side of the Atlantic, all the while being in New York. But what’s their experience of the UK been like?

“We love it, dude. I mean, it’s a lot of fun. I think UK music fans are insane and I love it,” Max says. “I think the first time we went to play London shows, everyone was a little sceptical still. So, you know, it was a lot of people with their arms crossed and, let’s see what these guys are about! And then the second time we went, all the shows were insane. So, I’m very happy about it. We’ve been playing shows in New York for years at this point, and we still don’t get an audience reaction like that.”

Geese’s new album, 3D Country, is out now.

Photography By: Kyle Berger
Interview Taken from Still Listening Magazine Issue SIX: 31/06/2023