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Track by Track of Geese's Getting Killed
- myra dodd
- Oct 10
- 6 min read
I've had two weeks to sit with Geese's third album, and it turns out I have much more to say than I thought I did. Cameron Winter, you are a genius.
Trinidad
“When the light turns red, I'm driving away."
“Trinidad" marks an explosive start to an album that doesn't really sound all that much like it. Like much of the album, it harbors strong anti-establishment themes. It's a critique of the tiresome monotony of everyday life and how, no matter how much someone adapts, everyone breaks down over time. I can't help but notice that the repeated "THERE'S A BOMB IN MY CAR!" evokes a similar feeling to the repetition of "Same as it ever was" in the Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime." Curiously enough, until sitting down to write this, I thought the lyric said bug, not bomb. Whereas I guess bomb makes it a bit more dramatic, I liked the thought of the bug eliciting such a strong reaction. Strong enough for the narrator to break. I honestly prefer it to show how modernity can wear us down so much that something as inconsequential as a bug in our car can be our breaking point. Society and modernity have worn the narrator down so far that their act of rebellion is disobeying the traffic light and yearning for a sense of freedom they acquire in different places throughout the album. Also, just learned that JPEGMAFIA does backing vocals on it. Sure, why not.
Cobra
“Baby, let me dance away forever"
"Cobra" is the opposite of "Trinidad's" bizarre structure and manic narrator. It's an upbeat, infectious, jangly tune that shares similar themes of desiring freedom. This time, it's seemingly not from society but from a relationship or individual. The cobra, in reference, is someone the narrator sees as tempting, but whose true nature will hurt him. Winter weaves between shaming the cobra for how they've made him feel and falling victim to the temptation. Dance has long been an expression of freedom, and here it offers a unique way for Winter to remove himself while fitting with the more uplifting tone of the song. It's also just a lot of fun. As of now it's looking to be my favorite and most streamed of the year.
Husbands
“Will you know what I mean?"
I don't quite know what he means, but the song starts with “I'll repeat what I say, but I'll never explain." From what I understand, the song's middle section is about holding onto relationships that have long since gone sour. Holding on because even if it's a huge burden, at least you're not lonely anymore. By the end, Winter questions if the loneliness could benefit him as "some are holiest that way". But then, the words "falling apart" are repeated for the remainder of the song. So I don't think it worked out well if I know what he means.
Getting Killed
“I'm trying to talk over everybody in the world."
"Getting Killed" really is a title track in the truest sense. This song perfectly encapsulates most of the album, reflecting on modernity and seeking agency over one's life. It perfectly touches on how overwhelming the world is when it feels like everyone is talking at once. Where do we as individuals fit in in a world where everyone's tears "fall into an even sadder bastard's eyes." In the end, getting killed isn't nearly as dramatic as it should be. Winter isn't getting killed by anything besides his everyday life.
Islands of Men
“You can't keep running away."
Thematically, Islands of Men reminds me a lot of the film I Saw the TV Glow. The brutal reality of accepting that you must live as you truly are, but being too scared to achieve it. Both build painfully, giving the narrator no choice by the end. "YOU CAN'T keep running away." There are a few songs on this album that I love a lot, but don't want to write that much about because they hurt to listen to repeatedly.
100 Horses
“There is only dance music in times of war."
The generals mentioned are the most personified version of authority we have seen. Much like the rest of the system, they critique and command. The system we are looking at is war—the destruction of war and liberation from it. So much art comes out of war, whether reflective or attempting to lift spirits. Here, Winter is again obsessed with Horses, dancing, and most importantly, freedom.
Half Real
“I've got no more thinking to do."
The use of "he" when talking about disapproval of their love is interesting to me. At first, I thought it may be in reference to the past lover's new partner downplaying this past relationship. The ongoing theme of the album and the switch to "they" make me believe otherwise. I think that Winter is defending the concept of love against a world that sees it as only "half real". "Half real" striking a balance between affection and obligation, love despite the monotony and the pain. Winter doesn't entirely believe this, but it does stick with him, "in the back of [his] mind." The narrator is so done living with himself and his memories that erasing everything seems like the best option. It's a concept that Severance explored recently and one that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind did years before that. In both pieces of media, erasing one's memories is seen as a treatment to deal with the pain. Including the "good times" did not go well in either circumstance. How could it be when you're only half yourself?
Au Pays Du Cocaine
“Baby, you can change and still choose me."
I've seen people draw comparisons to LCD Soundsystem's “ I Can Change" (one of my favorite songs of all time). I see it lyrically, but tonally, these songs feel very different. James Murphy comes from pure desperation as he pleads with his lover that he will change for them. Whereas Winter seems to have already been defeated. Past the point of begging, leaving a simple please at the end, before reassuring himself that "it's fine." Although it is pretty clear it's not.
After watching the new music video, my interpretation has shifted. The video features Winter singing a song across the table to a baby. I had previously thought the song to be about a failing relationship or friendship that Winter is desperately trying to hold on to, but now I see a world in which it is from the perspective of a parent watching their child age and outgrow them. I could also see a world where this is Winter reassuring his past self through change in his life.
Bow Down
“You don't know what it's like."
I've been focused mainly on lyrical observations and analysis, but honestly, my favorite part is easily the minute-long mostly instrumental outro—absolutely rips.
Taxes
“I should burn in hell, but I don't deserve this."
Taxes are perhaps the most straightforward representation of governmental control. They are compulsory, and rejecting paying your taxes rejects the whole system that runs on them. Winter is staging a war against those trying to control him. Despite Winter's belief that he is not a good person, he believes his freedom should remain untouched. It's quick, but Taxes demands your attention. Winter calls for others to solve their problems before trying to solve someone else's. A philosophy that he claims he will try himself, being the only one to break his heart.
Long Island City Here I Come
“Nobody knows where they're going except me."
Long Island City is used as a metaphor for death. I see this whole song as the moments before death. Winter recounts his conversations with the deceased Joan of Arc and Buddy Holly. Both of whom died young. Joan is a famous figure of liberation, and Buddy Holly was one of rock n ' roll's first greats. Buddy Holly tells of how "a masterpiece belongs to the dead." The idea that art is inherently better once the artist is gone is shattered by his claiming that Winter has "footage that will prove [them] both wrong." The second verse once again challenges the American dream and working yourself to death for the system, and refers to the American folk tale of John Henry, symbolizing man's power to beat the machine. A particularly important sentiment with the rise of AI. Suggesting that Winter sees death as a liberation of sorts. At the song's start, Winter insists he is the exception to the fear and unknown that everyone sees death as. As he gets to the end, he suddenly finds he is just as clueless but is forced to embrace it anyway.
This album as a whole is very demanding. The use of "you" feels less tied to a specific person and is instead aimed at the audience as a whole. It alternates between Winter extending advice and condemning us as if we are the system that he has wanted to liberate himself from this whole time.
I didn't notice how much repetition a lot of these songs have until I started writing this, but wow. And no, I don't want to talk about how they're playing next week in Chicago with Racing Mount Pleasant opening.
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