JAM BAND CHRONICLES: GOOSE

A DAY SPENT LISTENING TO A JAM BAND CALLED GOOSE

At this point, I would classify my interest in music and subculture as a sickness. It’s something I probably should’ve aged out of long ago, but I haven't. Which means that I still follow contrarian 24-year-olds on Twitter and comb YouTube for 6th-generation egg punk bands. It also means that at some point in my twisted musical journey, I started to get interested in the world of jam bands. 

I hated jam bands growing up. I was “punk.” Then I tried smoking za and going to noise shows. Ever since, I’ve been more open to bad psychedelic music. Still, it took me a long time to move past The Dead.

A decent amount has been said about the indie rock/jam band crossover that has probably been building since Phish broke up for the first time. It has maybe reached some kind of peak over the past five years. This seems connected to a larger interest among aging hipsters in rock climbing, crocs and expensive streetwear-adjacent tie dye shirts. A lot of people have been dressing like EYE from Boredoms. But I’m not trying to write an outdated trend piece. I’m trying to write about a band called Goose.

It’s been said before, but it’s hard to overlook: Goose is not the first jam band from New England with a single-word creature for a name. Technically, Goose defines themselves as an “indie-groove” band. They were formed in 2014 but only really started to take off in 2017, when multi-instrumentalist Peter Anspach joined. Their rise is concurrent with larger indie/jam movements, which signal a further flattening of guitar-based music. Some of Goose’s members look like they could play in Pavement, others look like they could be the star of a jazz fusion instructional VHS. But there is no confusing their Berklee-trained chops for anything but a jam band. Ultimately, Goose is mildly “tasteful.” Which makes them more listenable than some jam bands, maybe, but less interesting than, say, Pigeons Playing Ping Pong, who I will have to get to at some point. Another bird band.

Before I started this confusing music blog, I had the idea to do an entire newsletter about jam bands. Obviously, that wasn’t a good idea. But I’m still interested in the music and the culture. It’s the final frontier of taste, at least for me. I spent an entire day listening to Goose.

“Hot Tea”

Sonically, some of the songs on the last Goose studio record sound like they could’ve been on Mexican Summer. Others sound like demos meant to shop to John Mayer. There are fairly pleasant references to Afrobeat and Talking Heads. “Hot Tea” feels a little bit like Steely Dan. Would I have listened to more than two minutes of this album if I didn’t know it was being made by a jam band called Goose? No. But it’s a jam band, not a studio band. So let’s keep it moving…

“A Western Sun -> Echo of a Rose (Live 6/15/21 Perry, NY)”

I read an article about Goose, which led me to a Twitter user named JiveGoose, which led me to a spreadsheet guide to Goose songs, which ultimately led me to this rock block, which is nearly an hour long. According to JiveGoose’s spreadsheet, the 6/15/21 version of “Echo of a Rose'' is the “GOAT version.” Can’t say I was fucking with “A Western Sun.” Goose are very good at their instruments and have more competent vocals than most in the space. Yet they use those skills to write songs that sound like they should be playing inside of a neo hippie NPC’s earbuds. They sound like they should be soundtracking HORDE Festival: The Game. “A Western Sun” ultimately morphs into a “jamtronica” kind of situation (we can’t open up the jamtronica can of worms today), but I had to skip ahead. I was here for motherfucking “Echo of a Rose.” Not just any “Echo of a Rose.” The GOAT “Echo of a Rose.” At least according to JiveGoose.

Well, what do you know: Here, “Echo of a Rose” starts as a reggae song. These jam band motherfuckers can’t help it. They gotta play reggae! And you know what? I respect the hell out of that. This is a 20+ minute jam, though, so you know that it doesn’t stay reggae for long. When it starts to stretch, it does so in that contemporary Phish way: mildly funky, mildly spacey and mildly motorik. I can’t help but think these bands might be two times better if they were half as good at their instruments, but that’s the indie rocker in me. 

“Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard (Live 1/31/19 Boulder, CO)”

The way fans interface with their favorite jam bands is almost beyond music. One YouTuber breaks down Phish shows on a whiteboard like it’s a damn sports game. This shit can consume lives. Not really sure where I’m headed here, but to spend a single day listening to Goose feels like hitting the tip of the iceberg. But there is simply too much music in the world for more Goose. I’m also not quite sure if I like this band. I wouldn’t say I like this rootsy Paul Simon cover, and Goose seem slightly too self-satisfied here for my taste, but the band is so beyond my musical abilities that I have to bow down. I’ve failed too much to not respect their game. Halfway through the five-minute mark, it starts to sound nice, in a sort of Jerry-derived way. Two minutes later, they hit a fresh little pocket. They even end the jam without a big guitar solo. How indie rock is that?

“Moon IV”

I have vague memories of noise people telling me about old Allman Brothers Band soundcheck bootlegs. As in… That’s the real cutty shit, that’s the real floor tom psych shit. But my memory of those conversations–like most of my conversations with noise musicians–is muddy at best. Ted Tapes 2021 is a bunch of jams from Goose soundchecks and rehearsals. I listened to most of it and did not retain all that much. I understand why jam people are excited about Goose. At their best, they sound like Phish with less-cheesy keyboard tones.

“Dripfield (Live 12/31/2022 Cincinnati, OH)”

New Year’s Eve shows are a big deal in the jam band world. Phish’s NYE lore is so thick that I guess last year’s concert was all meta callbacks to previous sets. Back to Goose: “Dripfield” is the title track from the band’s most recent record; this 16-minute recording comes deep into their most recent New Year’s set, which is over three hours long. Stripped of the aestheticized sonics of the album version, “Dripfield” gets jam-battered and Peter Gabriel-fried. I know it’s not completely right, but I hear Coldplay in the chorus. Around the eight minutes in, things start to get fairly locked. Crossing the 10 minute mark, you know Goose isn’t playing around. All of a sudden, we are at minute 13 and the guitar is full-on. We are in Santana territory now. Not bad. Still, I think overplaying is the biggest barrier between myself and sincere enjoyment of contemporary jam bands. I get it: I might flex too if I was actually good at playing an instrument.

“This Old Sea (Feat. Trey Anastasio) (Live 11/15/22 Moon, PA)”

Phish loves Pavement. I listened to an entire podcast about the band and they wouldn’t shut up about The Minutemen. Two great bands, obviously. But what is the Phish stance on Agnostic Front? Will they ever cover a Cro-Mags album for Halloween? Anyways. Goose and Trey. OK! Let’s go. This song has a bit of a Gary Wright vibe, which isn’t so punk. That’s fine: might be the best Goose song I’ve listened to all day. And you know T-Dawg touched that shit just right. At around the eight minute zone, the jam starts to get a nice little bounce to it. The elder and the young gun, literally bouncing their damn shoulders. Are we taking things to New Orleans for a second? Or, wait… Actually… Is this the roadhouse we are entering? Yeah, we are in the damn roadhouse, and there seems to be more than a few unsavory characters in the mix. Somehow we are now 15 minutes in and we are getting into some deranged prog territory and I am thinking about that new 100 Gecs album, which I love, but which also hops styles as chaotically as these Goose jams I’ve been listening to. Are 100 Gecs a jam band?