By Paul Robicheau

Cameron Winter and the Brooklyn rockers stretch the songs of “Getting Killed” into a volatile mix of restless grooves, surreal asides, and singalong catharsis.

Max Bassin, Dominic DiGesu, and Cameron Winter of Geese at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

The flight path of Geese leads to disorienting extremes. Consider the young Brooklyn rockers’ mainstream baptism on Saturday Night Live early this year, when the winsome warble of “Au Pays du Cocaine” gave way to the bomb-scare detonation of “Trinidad,” sparking an online flame of love-and-hate reactions.

That performance—on top of accolades for Getting Killed as one of 2025’s best albums—fueled Geese’s ascent into major festivals and quickly sold-out fall shows that included this week’s doubleheader at Roadrunner. Live, the group continues to stretch its chaotic dynamics while frontman Cameron Winter occasionally dips into stream-of-consciousness rambles within the edgy contours of the songs.

Cameron Winter of Geese at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

At Wednesday’s second night at Roadrunner, Winter mused about Bostonians’ familiarity with battle history, mumbling off-target references from Barry Lyndon to the War of 1812 during “Crusades.” And in the midst of set-closer “Trinidad,” he wandered further with a random jag about finding somebody to befriend at Fenway Park. “We’ll take anybody,” he interjected. “Criminal record, we don’t care.”

The funny thing was how Winter’s asides didn’t seem that weird in the context of Geese’s arty amalgam, where post-punk clashes with hints of prog, metal, country, and theatrical melodrama. And while his idiosyncratic, pitch-curved vocals provide a defining element—and an acquired taste—in both Geese and his promising solo career (his latest record was culled from his piano concert at a sold-out Carnegie Hall), Winter largely blended onstage into the fabric of the band.

It was an elastic yet taut fabric, with the musicians locking into surprisingly spartan parts with deceptive power. That said, the glare of dominant backlighting obscured members’ faces while blunting an assault that matched the mesh of Winter and Emily Green’s guitars with Dominic DiGesu’s perfectly poking bass notes.

The group’s most minimalist player, Green floated woozy leads around Winter’s ruminations on loneliness in Wednesday’s opener, “Husbands” (and continued to space her sonic curls throughout the show, even pausing to sip a drink while the others played on). “Getting Killed” kicked in as the second song amid a wash of strobe lights as Winter paced alongside his bandmates and then settled at an electric piano for the swaying “Cobra.” He likewise later moved to touring keyboardist Sam Revaz’s post to guide a jaunty “Killing My Borrowed Time.”

Cameron Winter and Emily Green of Geese at Roadrunner (c) 2026 photo Paul Robicheau

Drummer Max Bassin assumed a more commanding role, powering a couple of genuine solo breaks, one within the martial fusillades of the stop-and-start “Bow Down.” Bassin also lent Keith Moon-ish flurries to a closing ascent of the Green-sweetened “Au Pays du Cocaine,” where Winter (silhouetted in illuminated fog) serenaded the crowd with “You can be free and still come home, it’s alright.”

Max Bassin of Geese at Roadrunner. Photo: Paul Robicheau

Even as the lanky singer maintained a nonchalant presence, his lyrics were echoed back throughout the night by fans basking in the backlit spotlight, setting up a dynamic that could serve Geese well in its climb to larger venues. The singalongs wound from the “Get out, get under!” refrain within the furious twists of “2122” to the climactic release of “Taxes,” where Winter crooned, “If you want me to pay my taxes, you better come over with a crucifix, you’re gonna have to nail me down.”

On the cusp of the night’s big finale, the band stopped to cool its heels for an exceedingly long time, building anticipation for “Trinidad” to drop. And it did, without fail, Winter’s brooding ruminations lending an air of neo-psychedelic dread until he screamed “There’s a bomb in my car!” and everything erupted. The crowd collapsed into a giant mosh pit with a bumping, bobbing frenzy, and the band unleashed ripping guitars and pounding drums in a piano-iced burst.

That rinse-and-repeat ritual (recalling the Pixies’ loud-soft-loud exorcisms) went on for 10 minutes, yet Geese’s whole set lasted only 75 minutes, showcasing 14 songs (including nine from Getting Killed, though one fewer than on Tuesday) and no encore. But no matter how you cut it, it’s hard to continue after a flight through “Trinidad”—and less than a decade since the group formed in high school, the invigorating migration of Geese has only begun.

Paul Robicheau served more than 20 years as contributing editor for music at the Improper Bostonian, in addition to writing and photography for The Boston Globe, Rolling Stone, and many other publications. He was also the founding arts editor of Boston Metro.