In the summer of 2021, Geese emerged from out of nowhere, sparking a hype cycle unlike anything that had been seen for a young American rock band in recent memory. Suddenly a band that had previously planned to release some music, break up, and go away to college was touring the world. And during this entire process, that very same band everyone was getting to know ceased to exist.

On a practical level, Geese are still the group we were introduced to in 2021: vocalist Cameron Winter, guitarist Gus Green, guitarist Foster Hudson, bassist Dom DiGesu, and drummer Max Bassin. But spiritually, Geese have returned as an entirely different prospect. Their new album 3D Country is the sound of a restless, adventurous band redefining themselves.

Anyone who has seen Geese live recently might've noticed the band adopted a different vibe onstage — more of a volcanic, unpredictable aesthetic. It turns out that wasn't a flipside to the recordings of Projector, but foreshadowing that there was more to the story. Knowing they were now beyond teenage basement experiments and were instead making something for an audience who would hear it, Geese felt emboldened. "When we were writing Projector it was about narrowing the scope, trying to do more with less," Green says. "When we started writing for 3D Country we were trying to do a lot more and seeing what worked and what didn't."

At the same time, they're well aware of how significant a departure they've made. "As music listeners, we all appreciate bands who change over time, and are comfortable with risk," Winter adds. It wasn't necessarily a given that Geese would overhaul their sound, but with age came new adventures and interests. "Maybe the last record was our teenage angst and 3D Country is our newfound twenty-something arrogance," he quips.

For Winter, the album really started to materialize when they figured out "Gravity Blues" in early 2021. "It was simultaneously new and classic sounding, like older structures and sounds run through the 21st century," a sound recognizable but warped to underpin an album meditating on daily life in a world sliding out of view.

You can hear that fusion across 3D Country, Geese repurposing fragments of classic rock into a sound that is stranger and wholly their own. Right out the gates, the album kicks off with serpentine grooves underneath the armageddon visions of "2122," before quickly ceding to the title track's gospel-flecked chorus."Undoer" is a slowburn simmer constantly building to something apocalyptic; "Crusades" travels back to Medieval times but chugs along on a "Heroes"-esque groove before strings swoop in around it. Later, Green and Hudson's guitars bend and fry while Hudson also jumps in on vocals for an inhuman wail on "Mysterious Love," and the whole album ends with the sideways piano elegy of "St. Elmo," playing out like a saloon song viewed through a funhouse mirror.

Perhaps the evolution of 3D Country is best summed up in lead single "Cowboy Nudes." The band stumbled on the riff and hesitated to work on it for a year, feeling they might spoil its charm. "We went in wanting something aggressively simple, and came out with this weird driving-down-the-highway-wind-in-your-face song that has a bongo solo in the middle," Winter says. "I find it hilarious that 'Cowboy Nudes' is the first thing to come out after our first record, cause it's such a departure in sound. At the very least, one person who loved our last album is gonna listen to this and start hating us, which makes me nervous but also makes me laugh."

While writing 3D Country, Winter was preoccupied with "modern doom," the way climate change and all manner of looming catastrophes hang on the horizon while we otherwise go about our lives. "It's about living in spite of just total ambient dread," he explains. "I wanted to adopt an irreverent, sarcastic way of looking at that." While Winter wanted to portray a generational experience, he didn't want to be overly literal or didactic about it. "At this point, everybody I know is already so cynical and defeatist about the state of things, it's actually hilarious," he explains. "Younger people make jokes out of the fact that human extinction is on the horizon, and that's kind of beautiful. I tried to represent that attitude."

With a heightened ambition fueling 3D Country, the band created a bugged-out, wild, unpredictable ride — an almost phantasmagoric reflection of contemporary life. "It feels like going to the circus and instead of having a good time, everyone is trying to kill you," Bassin says.

And even if 3D Country is one more stop and not the final destination — Winter hints that what comes next could be just as severe a change — the album makes one thing very clear about Geese. This is not the band we thought they were, and no one can say where they might take us next.