Geese at Gov Ball: Mania Without Maniacs

There are endless pros of a media pass at a music festival. Free food and drinks, shaded areas to chill, interviews with artists, and close views, just to name a few. It’s really a luxury, but there is one con: you’re surrounded by the VIP ticket-holding crew. 

No shade to VIP attendees, but I quickly noticed they weren’t getting rowdy like most fans in GA. Let’s be real, the VIPer pays for amenities unexplored in GA: breathing room, quick bathroom access, and unobstructed views. While the majority are laid-back and will bob their heads to whoever is on stage, they’re a bit stiff, even with a band as stimulating as Geese. 

As WRSU’s senior Geese correspondent, I was up front for Geese’s set—my fifth show of theirs in 400 days, and the first of five in 2026. I knew what they would play and how they would play it, but the VIP crowd around me did not. Geese were coming off their Primavera Sound gig, a set they christened the “Best Geese show of all time.” Locked in, the band eased into the set with a potent “Husbands.”

Ruffled and tense bangers “Getting Killed” and “Crusades” followed. A one-two punch that guaranteed moshing at every show around the world, except for this one in Queens – ironically, a 30-minute drive from their homes. The VIP crowd needed a sing-along to succumb. Following “Crusades,” the band huddled around drummer Max Bassin’s kit. The next track decided the mark they left at Gov Ball.

The first note of “Cobra” hit like a subway arriving at the second you reach the platform. People glued to their Instagram feed peered up, learning of Cameron Winter’s matted hair. A group of elementary school kids in K-pop attire started swaying and giggling. The line of fans reclining on the back barricade rose. Maybe Geese weren’t channeling Primavera’s stormy aura, but this was a hometown triumph. They confirmed this with a knock-your-socks-off arrangement of “2122.”

It’s a bit pretentious, but I rarely listen to the studio version of “2122.” Their crass covers, sandwiched in the center of the track, are too giddy to stick to streaming. At Gov Ball, they played it safe with their textbook “Interstellar Overdrive” take, drawing bystanders to the main stage. Whether or not you know the early Pink Floyd cut, it’s one of the most invasive riffs in rock & roll. 

Thanks to guitarist Emily Green, the band’s seduction persisted. During the backend of “2122,” Green wrung her guitar to her chest, palmed the bridge with one hand, and slid the end of the neck with the other. Squeaky and quirky, a reminder that Geese is not a one-man show.

The next big, “Wow, these guys are good” moment arrived while Winter stood 50 feet from his mic. After wrapping “100 Horses,” Winter bantered with some fans on the catwalk later used by A$AP Rocky and his SWAT team. While Winter chatted, Bassin crashed the opening cymbal on “I See Myself,” forcing Winter, with an unplugged guitar in his hand, to gallop to his mark. He made it just in time for the first line: “I’ve been hit by the bus of love.” 

“I See Myself” is a mainstay in the Getting Killed era. The first time I heard the track, I thought it was a cover, or at least a reinterpretation of an ‘80s rock ballad. Nope, just a feeling we all get. Like “Cobra,” shrieks and wails overtook Winter’s voice. “Cowboy Nudes” followed. “New York City, underwaterrr,” in New York City will never get old.

Twenty minutes to go in the set, four Getting Killed cuts left, Geese extended their stride. “This is a song about getting on your knees,” Winter said sharply before “Bow Down.” Crisscrossing between sailors and boats, and cars and roads, Winter jetted through the front half. Bassin’s turbulent snare kicked in just as Winter unstrapped his guitar and set it down. Usually, Bassin would click for a few beats until a tremendous breakdown subbed in, but Winter had other plans. Like a model making their debut, Winter jetted down the L-shaped catwalk.

Too fast to call it a stroll, too slow for a speed walk, he crusaded until he hit the farthest corner. On his way, he picked up a Lababu lying on the ground. From my vantage point, I thought it was a t-shirt. Turning back to the stage, he resumed his pace, then paused. Squatted and tossed the Lababu into the crowd of pleased hands like friends during a game of Horse, shooting a shot ‘Granny Style.’ The crowd didn’t get it. I think it scared them a bit. For a moment, there was more laughter than kick drum. I wonder how they’d react to Winter’s solo work, especially “$0” or “Nina + Field of Cops.” The momentary spectacle of Winter’s campaign abandoned our memory as Geese trickled into “Au Pays Du Cocaine.” 

Sometimes, hushed love songs don’t translate outside intimate clubs; “Cocaine” does. For all the surreal, absurdist lyrics, Winter writes, like “I knew a man // Big and fat, born without arms or legs // Born to jump in the air and clap,” there’s no denying the universality of “Baby, you can change, and still come home.”

Geese’s universality continued on “Taxes,” whose tumultuous and exorbitant build boils until the undeniable drop lands. Although paying taxes may not be the biggest worry of the VIP section, people surrounding me danced as hard as they would for A$AP’s headline set later that night. Seeing the joy of newfound Geese fans during “Taxes” brought me back to their free Getting Killed release show. I think the moment the beat dropped at Bankers Anchor at 4:54 PM on September 27, 2025, Geese became the most important band in the world. 

It’s a ritual at this point: Geese closing their shows with “Trinidad.” Before the set started, I was speaking with a few people in the VIP section wearing Geese shirts (they were actually upgraded to VIP after winning a F’Real milkshake event, whatever that means). While they were excited to be up close, they wanted one thing: a mosh (I later found out they had recently graduated from high school, so this checked out).

The barbed preliminary plink on “Trinidad” anchored, and the F’Real upgraders formed a circle. Soon, every Geese fan in VIP was running in circles, waiting for the explosion. Surrounding the pit, some looked in with fear, some recorded with a grin, and others examined the potential of injury. Then, BOOM. “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR.” 

Pandemonium. This detonation was destined from the start, and finally, the VIP section let loose. For the first time, in the hour-long set, the Geese show felt like a Geese show! By the time I gathered myself from the “Trinidad” pit, the band was halfway off the stage, and crew members were racing to set up Dominic Fike’s set.

Every time I see Geese, Winter’s stage presence and complete confidence further exude that of a cherished rock legend. During his solo shows, he plays half unreleased material and faces away from the crowd. His banter is stuck in the land of mummers and whispered hymns. With Geese, he’s the only one with the mic, does whatever he wants with it, but doesn’t abuse that power. 

Winter benefits from playing the role of a solo pianist and redeemer of rock, the way a child benefits from having best friends at school and sleepaway summer camp—one archetype I adore as an adult, and another I envied as a kid. For Cameron Winter, it’s truly the best of both worlds.

Find Geese on tour now. Learn more about their World Tour and Getting Killed, here.