In a solo recital at the prestigious Carnegie Hall, Geese’s frontman takes flight, armed with just a single piano.
La voix est un mystère. Les grandes voix folk, par exemple : les plus fédératrices peuvent aussi être les plus clivantes – ainsi celle de Bob Dylan, qui fut “la voix d’une génération” et qui provoque encore ici ou là d’allergiques et radicales réactions. C’est dans la continuité de cette ambivalence que se place, à l’instar de celle d’Adrianne Lenker (Big Thief), la voix de Cameron Winter, leader des géniaux Geese (leur Getting Killed, sur de nombreux podiums 2025 malgré les grincements de dents anecdotiques) et également auteur d’un fabuleux Heavy Metal (2024) sous son seul nom.
We find him here solo, behind a Steinway piano on the hallowed Carnegie Hall stage. Held on December 11, 2025, the recital—no surprise, sold out—immediately took on an aura of legend. On the edge of the stage, cameras from filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson prowled (one carried by his esteemed colleague Benny Safdie), and in the audience slipped the silhouettes of Michael Stipe and Lee Ranaldo. It is to say that the young artist is being watched by his most illustrious predecessors: even Nick Cave himself has expressed admiration for his writing.
An Echo of Bob Dylan
Listening to this recording with its almost sacred atmosphere, one is reminded of the Idiot Prayer that the Australian delivered in 2020—same reverent stillness, same uncluttered intensity, same infinite resonances. But more than anything, and decisively, it points toward Bob Dylan: not the Dylan who was one of the very few to have walked this Carnegie Hall stage before the age of 25, but the more intimate Dylan heard in the Witmark Demos, the indispensable Bootleg of 2010. These demos, inhabited by a Dylan who is both free and meticulous, already offering his best between 1962 and 1964 on songs like When The Ship Comes In or The Times They Are A-Changin’, performed solo behind a piano as tremulous as the one Winter’s fingers now traverse. Beyond the pomp of the setting, one even imagines something more intimate still: the heartbreaking tapes Daniel Johnston recorded in his Beatles‑fan bedroom.
The concert opens with one of the three unreleased tracks in the set, It All Fell in the River, a model of feverish melancholy—though a fragile one—and it closes with the two earliest songs Cameron had recorded outside Geese. In between, exquisitely rendered versions glide by of Love Takes Miles or $0, songs that may be “destined for bad singers” (as the cryptic line in Cancer Of The Skull puts it), yet belonging to a lineage of “bad singers” that traverses Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Daniel Johnston… and, now, Cameron Winter.
Live at Carnegie Hall (PIAS). Out on October 9.
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