Geese may be the most buzz-worthy band in the world these days, but even they cannot get away with teasing a Glasgow crowd too much. After something politely described by singer Cameron Winter as a “phallic object” was lobbed onstage, the frontman larked about with it, suggesting he might mimic a sexual act. As soon as he pulled it away from his lips, boos descended in force from the always lively throng squeezed together on a sweatbox of a dancefloor. “We’ve lost the crowd” Winter joked to his bandmates, but that was never a serious proposition on a night when those there were completely in thrall to these otherwise unassuming Brooklyn natives
Unassuming is also an apt description of their arrival. There was no blaring entrance music or dizzying light show to herald the group walking onstage, just an amble and then right into the hazy, woozy wake-up of regular opener “Husbands” followed by the Velvet Underground aping “Crusades” that really started to get bodies moving in the crowd – something that never stopped for the ensuing 80 odd minutes. Such a laid back nature from the band, coupled with the Barrowland being an old school dancehall, meant there were moments when it felt like you were watching your pals in a dive bar jamming away, fancy free and having a blast.
A glance around would remove that notion, though. Every word was being screamed back by those lucky enough to have got tickets. That might not sound unusual, but there is serious fervour here, the sort of zealous dedication that both long-running careers and religious cults are fuelled by. If Winter had broken away from his drawling, somewhat stoned delivery to suggest everyone take a jump into the River Clyde some present looked like they would have obliged, and at speed too.
Thankfully he focused instead on the music, firing through the fierce indie of “I See Myself” and the stutter step rock of “Gravity Blues” with aplomb. This was Geese’s second of three headline Glasgow gigs this year, all at the Barrowland, all sold out and with tickets outside going for three figures, but the band themselves seem to have taken to any pressure and expectation with ease. They were tight, anchored by a powerful backbone from drummer Max Bassin and sparking up whenever guitarist Emily Green took flight.
The bulk of the set came from break-through third record “Getting Killed”, and mostly falls into two categories – either thrashy bursts of noise that veers into jamming, or melodic sweetness that suggests the heart of a pop act beats underneath those laconic attitudes. The former was strikingly represented by a propulsive, chugging “100 Horses” and the encore’s “Trinidad” exploding into noise, with both Green and bassist Dominic DiGesu throwing themselves about.
Yet amidst the din, the latter type of song would emerge, and a late set “Au Pays du Cocaine” was soaked with enough charm that one of the security guards at the front of the stage was swaying along to it, while "2122" featured a snippet of Dolly Parton's "Here You Come Again", played via Winter's phone mid-song, in tribute to the legend who had died that day.
The singer's own voice, part Lou Reed, part Thom Yorke, a smidgen of Julian Casablancas for good measure, appeared on great form throughout, whether giving stream of consciousness rambling or a gentle lament.
Many of those influences, particularly the Velvets and the Strokes, run through the rest of the band too, and for all Geese are a terrifically exciting live act, they aren’t reinventing the wheel here. There were also a few moments when the group’s fondness for extending material goes too far, as a song peaks, then carries on for three more minutes.
However, there are brilliant songs here, including a stunning regular set closing “Taxes” that was pure pop joy and a genuinely euphoric experience. By that time the phallic object from earlier had been lobbed by Winter back into the crowd, with a scramble ensuing to claim it. A devotion well earned on this showing.
