HIGH HOPES
For these prodigious New York noiseniks, it all began just as they were about to call it a day.
AS SOON AS they decided to split up, Brooklyn’s Geese found themselves in great demand. Upon meeting in high school, the quintet – astylish melange of all you’d expect of a quintessentially street-sharp New York City rock band – had happened upon an appealing strain of angularly-inclined, guitar-based concision (part-Velvets, part-Television, part-Strokes) while thrashing about in their drummer’s basement.
With separate college courses hoving over the near horizon, the band spent their final year of school cobbling together a selfproduced farewell recording for posterity. Upon its completion, at the exact moment Geese expected to disband, their simultaneous debut/swansong instituted a wholly unexpected record company bidding war. In the midst of a global pandemic.
“It was a weird time,” recalls vocalist Cameron Winter. “Labels started discovering us just as the pandemic picked up. So one part of my life was going to heights I’d never anticipated, even as all the other parts were crumbling completely.”
Much to the chagrin of several sets of parents, Geese never made it to college. Then again, courtesy of covid, they didn’t exactly make it out on the road either. In demand but still unsigned, their red-hot debut album (ultimately released as Projector) languishing in the the can, Geese – completed by guitarists Foster Hudson and Gus Green, bassist Dominic DiGesu and drummer Max Bassin – set to work writing material for their second album, 3D Country. Bei
