All Gas, No Brakes: Geese Bring NYC Energy to the Twin Cities
There’s something about discovering an opener that makes you stop mid-conversation and just listen. That’s exactly what Chasing Mt. Pleasant accomplished as they took the stage at Amsterdam Bar & Hall. The six-piece instrumental group—complete with trumpets, violins, guitars, and a drummer who was nothing short of electric—crafted an atmosphere that felt cinematic from the first note. With long instrumentals, often without uttering a single lyric, they told a story that wove emotion, chaos, and calm into one cohesive sound. The set pulsed with momentum, a swirl of indie-rock rhythm and orchestral texture that demanded the audience’s attention.
What stood out most about Chasing Mt. Pleasant was their ability to communicate without words. Each musician seemed to be in constant conversation with the others, trading riffs, melodies, and crescendos like dialogue. The music almost read like jazz in a way that I couldn’t tell if there were reheards, because it felt so natural and like they were playing off each other so naturally. There was a natural push and pull—moments of quiet restraint giving way to explosive crescendos where the trumpet soared and the drums hit like a heartbeat gone wild. The group’s new age edge added freshness to a sound that felt classic at its core. It’s not easy to make instrumental music feel accessible and alive in a crowded room, but this band made it seem effortless.
By the time their set came to a close, it was clear the audience seemed genuinely impressed. People turned to their friends with that “who are these guys?” look. And honestly, that’s the best compliment an opener can get.
Geese hit my radar recenty, when the Current was discussing ‘Rocktober’ and the shows they were excited to see. My morning drive got a new vibe when I tuned into Geese based on the hosts recommendation. A few songs in I thought, okay, I want to see what this is all about. Soon learning their new album was making waves, even friends of mine from Los Angeles, CA posting they were upset they didn’t score tickets to their upcoming shows at the Fonda Theatre, I knew this was one not to miss.
The energy in the room was already electric by the time Geese took the stage, but before they even played a note, anticipation had been building for nearly an hour. Doors were held open an extra 30 minutes to get everyone inside, with the line snaking out the door and all the way up to the sixth-floor entry of the attached parking garage. Inside, it was shoulder-to-shoulder. Normally, there’s a lull between sets—people heading to the bar or checking their phones—but tonight, the crowd only pressed closer. It was as if everyone knew what was coming, and no one wanted to miss a second of it.
When Geese finally walked on stage, the roar that erupted felt almost cathartic. The Brooklyn-based band wasted no time launching into their set, blending art-rock experimentation with punk grit and youthful groundedness. Their sound is a collision of influences—Talking Heads, The Strokes, Parquet Courts—but it’s all filtered through something distinctly their own. There’s a tension in their performance, a kind of controlled chaos that keeps you guessing where a song might go next. Frontman Cameron Winter’s vocals moved between cool detachment and impassioned bursts, while the band around him seemed locked in, playing like they were trying to shake the walls of the venue.
It’s easy to see why Geese are becoming one of the most talked-about young rock bands today. Their musicianship is tight, but there’s a looseness—an unpolished energy—that makes it feel alive, human, and unpredictable. Every member of the band brings something vital to the performance, and together they create a sound that’s bigger than the small stage could contain. Their live show feels like a declaration: that rock, in all its weird and wonderful forms, is still evolving—and Geese are one of the bands leading the charge.
