Getting Killed, by Geese, feels like the sound of growing up: restless, unpredictable, and strangely comforting in its chaos. The Brooklyn four-piece return with their most emotional and fully realized record yet, one that feels equal parts reckless and deeply human. If 4D Country was about expanding their sound, Getting Killed is about owning it.
There’s something cinematic about this album - not in the sense of polish, but in how alive every moment feels. It’s full of tension and release, quiet reflections, and bursts of pure noise. You can hear a band stretching the edges of what they know, chasing something that feels honest.
The album’s most deceptively romantic song, “Cobra”, moves like sunlight filtered through dust, a push and pull of ideas that mirror the emotional contradictions of love. There’s tension in the lyrics, but also joy, like he's savouring the mess instead of resisting it. The more you listen, the more it feels like he’s not trying to solve love, but to live inside its disorder. Laced with biblical themes of humility and devotion, with lyrics like “Baby, let me wash your feet forever", Geese turn rock into religion.
“Half Real” might be the underdog of the record, but it’s the one that lodged itself into my head immediately. It starts slow, teetering between confidence and self-doubt, until that bright guitar line slips in around 1:21 and the whole thing lifts. There’s something euphoric about that moment, like breathing after holding your breath for too long. The lyrics seem to bargain for closure, and by the end, they feel like a quiet revelation. The song captures exactly what Geese do best: turning uncertainty into transcendence.
Then there’s “Au Pays du Cocaine”, which lingers in a different emotional register altogether. Its melancholy has the same quiet intimacy and bruised warmth that ran through Cameron Winter’s 2024 solo project, Heavy Metal. The song feels like a late-night confession whispered, it’s not trying to shock or overwhelm; instead it just sits with you, letting the ache settle. There’s beauty and honesty in how it refuses to resolve, in how it makes peace with feeling lost.
Across Getting Killed, Geese sound both freer and more deliberate. The guitars twist and lean into warmth; the vocals, sometimes ironic and sometimes raw, feel more present than ever. What makes Getting Killed hit so deeply is that it’s not trying to impress. There’s a looseness to the performances that feels like trust: in the songs, in each other. The album doesn’t sound like a band chasing a trend or a scene; it sounds like a group of friends figuring out how to translate what’s in their heads into something you can feel in your chest.
