No Expectations 123: Day Off
Why Geese’s ‘Getting Killed’ deserves the hype. Plus, recommended LPs from Chicago artists like Jeff Tweedy, Sam Prekop, and more.
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Headline song: Liam Kazar, “Day Off”
Thanks for being here. Since last Thursday’s No Expectations, it’s felt like I’ve been in constant motion. On Friday, I saw two longtime and dear friends get married, hosted my sister and her husband on Saturday and Sunday, and still somehow crammed in three shows. That I managed to do all that without taking a day off from work is something I’m proud of, but probably won’t attempt again. I’m not going to lie: I’m more than a little fried, but I’m grateful I could surround myself with friends, family, and live music. It was honestly an alltimer weekend.
One thing these jam-packed few days made me realize is how much I listen to in a normal week when I don’t have nonstop social obligations. The obvious reason is that for the past 13 years, writing about music has been either my full-time job or a part-time one. Still, it’s a bit much. When I was a rock-obsessed teen, I only listened to what could fit on a 4GB iPod Mini or the half-dozen or so CDs that were in the center console of my Honda Civic. Now, my phone holds 256GB (and 48GB of those are solely occupied by Grateful Dead shows). I have access to a seemingly unlimited cloud library thanks to streaming services. I also diligently keep up with new releases because of this newsletter, and don’t stop checking things out until I have what I hope is a good roundup.
Is this normal? No. Is this healthy? Probably not. While I still love my weekly routine of discovering new LPs, I worry that I’m neglecting longtime favorites and even the recent ones that I wrote about months or weeks ago. Sometimes it’s nice to unplug and be present, too. Music is great because you can choose your own adventure. We all have an uncle who rarely leaves the comforting bubble of ‘70s classic rock, a jam band friend who only hears about a band because their favorite act covered a tune live, or a coworker who just listens to the radio. All of this is valid, and we’ve all gone through phases where we’re just revisiting what we loved at 15. Though this newsletter’s bread-and-butter will always be the new, under-the-radar acts, no reader has ever demanded a roundup of fresh LPs every week. At this point, I assume they’re here for the ride, and that rules.
Because I spent my weekend with loved ones, I didn’t once think I’d rather spend my time down the new release rabbit hole. Sometimes life gets in the way. It’s no big deal. Still, thanks to the fact that music journalists often get albums early (this is just a fact and an important tool to help me do my job, don’t get mad at me!), the roundup below is stacked with full-lengths that I’ve loved over the past few months. One’s been out for a minute, and three are brand new. You’re likely already familiar with a couple of the names below, but I bet you’ll dig them all. Read on for me explaining why Geese, not to be confused with the Newsletter favorite jam band Goose, have likely the best album of 2025.
Here’s the spiel for new subscribers: Each week, you get a wildcard main essay (often new album recommendations), a 15-song playlist, as well as updates on what I’m listening to, watching, and reading. Sometimes you’ll get an interview with an artist I love, and other times it’ll be a deep dive into one band’s discography. Since I’m a Chicago-based writer, this newsletter is very Midwest-focused. So, if you live in this city too, you’ll also receive a curated roundup of upcoming local shows to check out.
Here’s where I politely ask for money: This newsletter is something I write in my spare time after work. It’s unpaywalled and remains that way due to the generosity of my readers. I am not in the business of gatekeeping. If you have the means and like what you read, you can sign up for a paid subscription. If your budget is tight, telling a friend about a band you found out about here is just as good. It’s still $5 a month—the cost of one Old Style plus tip at Rainbo Club. Every bit helps, keeps this project going, and allows it to stay paywall-free. It’s rough out there, so it means the world you’re reading and supporting this writing project.
PSA: I’m probably taking next Thursday off. I need to catch up on some sleep as well as some reading and listening. Plus, on Monday and Tuesday, which are the nights I normally write No Expectations, I’ll be hosting some friends playing a couple of shows in Chicago next week.
4 Albums Worth Your Time This Week
Geese, Getting Killed
New York’s Geese thrive on viscerally subverting expectations to the point where your conception of what a rock group can be is constantly recalibrating. I first heard them in 2021 when their publicist sent over Projector months before its release. I was floored. Technically, it’s their second album, as their high school debut was scrubbed off the internet, but the LP was a raucous and exuberant amalgamation of 2000s indie rock. The more I listened, the more I thought that even though it wore its influences liberally, it was wholly alive, unclassifiable, and vital. I was a loud supporter on Twitter and interviewed most of the band (which was likely their first time talking to a journalist) for a VICE piece that never published because most of my team and I got laid off. “Not that it’s bad,” frontman Cameron Winter said of the album to Rolling Stone this year. “But we just did a fucking facsimile of a copy of a goddamn ripoff.”
While I still love Projector for its youthful scrappiness and obvious potential, I realize there’s no way I could’ve known how these then-teenagers would evolve artistically. What felt world-changing to me then now feels slight compared to the bonkers greatness of follow-up 2023 3D Country, Cameron Winter’s soulful, eccentric, and vivacious 2024 solo debut Heavy Metal, and now Getting Killed, the best rock album of 2025. This is a band that’s found its voice, scrapping post-punk pastiche for uncompromisingly adventurous rock music that suddenly swings from pummeling riffs and dense rhythms to moments of hair-raising beauty.
Like its predecessors, Getting Killed opens with a disorienting and potent left turn. “Trinidad” is anchored by a swaggering blues riff and Winter’s voice jolting between a falsetto coo and anguished screams. It’s all violence and volcanic energy with lines like, “There’s a bomb in my car,” which Winter delivers with appropriate maniacal intensity. Then, “Cobra” enters the mix: a gorgeous dose of twinkling guitars and Winter’s charismatic vulnerability. He sings, “Lеt me dance away forevеr, baby.” Since 3D Country, Winter’s come into himself as one of rock’s most dynamic and enthralling frontmen. His level of control is staggering in the way he can morph from a warbling croak, a raspy yell to an upper-register wail. No matter what, it’s always a thrill.
Recorded with Kenny Beats, a hip-hop producer who’s made several successful forays into indie rock with acts like Idles, Getting Killed excels on intricate grooves and outre percussion. This rhythmic backbone allows the rest of the band to soar, especially on the title track, which boasts a sample of a Ukrainian choir. Frenetic drums and pops of chopped-up vocals whirl around crunchy riffs and Winter’s aching voice. It’s a masterful tune. I’d say it’s arguably the most undeniable one on the LP, but the other 10 tracks make a damn good argument as well. Elsewhere, on the heartwrenching ballad “Au Pays Du Cocaine,” Winter sings gut-shattering lyrics like, “Baby, you can change and still choose me.” The raw emotion in his voice is chilling there.
If you’re seeing these rave reviews, the 9.0 BNM designation from Pitchfork, the hyperbolic praise on social media, and are still feeling skeptical, I hear you. While I immediately loved Projector, it took a few listens to get on the same wavelength as 3D Country. Even after that artistic breakthrough, the band’s label still forced Winter’s solo record follow-up to the release year doldrums of December 2024. They didn’t believe it’d sell or resonate, but for an LP that came out last year, it’s undeniably one of 2025’s success stories. All I’ll say is give it time. Try again in a week, or listen to their whole discography in order and see if that changes anything. Great art isn’t always immediately apparent. Sometimes it takes work, other times it knocks you on your ass in an instant.
When I first heard this record, I started joking to friends that Getting Killed was Gen Z’s answer to Radiohead’s In Rainbows. While I initially meant it in jest, I’m realizing that they're both percussion-first, wildly unpredictable, and seamlessly sequenced LPs that radically refocused the sound of an already innovative band. Revisiting my interview with them from over four years ago, the members I spoke to were all just thrilled to be together making music, having someone interested in what they’re doing, and grateful to geek out about tunes. It was obvious that they were astoundingly creative kids, but I’m grateful that they stuck to their guns and kept taking risks together.
Jeff Tweedy, Twilight Override
While I don’t believe there’s one particular blueprint for a long and rewarding career, Jeff Tweedy, now in his fifth decade of touring, recording, and releasing music, is probably the best model. Since 2014, when he put out a record as Tweedy that he made with his son Spencer, he’s embarked on the most prolific era of his life. He’s released five LPs with his main band, Wilco, and five solo full-lengths, with the breezy and adventurous triple-album Twilight Override out last Friday. They’ve all been good-to-great. He’s done everything while still regularly touring and somehow writing three books. He’s a voracious listener of new music, goes out of his way to support under-the-radar artists, and is generous with his time, both by regularly revealing his process to readers of his essential Substack Starship Casual and with journalists. When I interviewed him in 2016, I panicked when I realized that he chose his birthday as the date for our chat. (It went great, but if I were him, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend hours talking to some 24-year-old superfan writer on a day I could take off). He’s proof that some combo of discipline, openness, and kindness will pan out.
All three of these winning qualities are on display throughout Twilight Override. He recorded it at his Chicago studio, the Loft, with his sons Spencer and Sammy, alongside a cast of younger musicians in Liam Kazar, Sima Cunningham, and Macie Stewart. (The acclaimed guitarist Jim Elkington also guests on several tracks). This cross-generational collaboration clearly energizes Tweedy through its 30 songs, which miraculously never lag throughout a 111-minute runtime. A document of gleeful creative freedom, it’s a remarkably varied and dynamic record. The achy, erratic thump of “No One’s Moving On” could’ve been on A Ghost Is Born, while the single “Lou Reed Was My Babysitter” is galvanizing rock’n’roll catharsis. The winsome, dreamy “Stray Cats in Spain” wobbles with woozy optimism, while the overcast, spoken-word “Parking Lots” anxiously grapples with his parallel futures. It’s a testament to Tweedy’s craft and curiosity, for he’s been able to evolve, keep things interesting, and try new things, not just since Uncle Tupelo, but in this past decade of relentless creative reinvention.
Jessica Risker, Calendar Year
Back in 2020, one of my favorite escapes was listening to Jessica Risker’s podcast Music Therapy, where she’d talk to Chicago musicians and mental health professionals about life, craft, and keeping sane in weird times. It was nice to hear folks I knew from around town yap and I was already a fan of her music. Her 2018 Western Vinyl debut, I See You Among the Stars, was delicate, minimal, and potent folk. But until then, I had no idea that she was also a practicing counselor. While she took a break from hosting that interview series in 2023, she’s back with her first album in seven years, the lush, considered, and mesmerizing Calendar Year. Where her last effort was mostly her and her guitar with the occasional harmony and string part, this LP has a fleshed-out, full band. These ornate, sometimes psychedelic arrangements suit Risker’s lucid and observational lyrics perfectly. “City Hours” is a swirling and sinister ode to losing yourself in your AirPods, distracted from what’s happening around you with lines like, “There’s a maggot in your ear,” and “There are days I wish you weren’t far away.” This is a record concerned with being present, intentional, and open. On the cascading song “Sipping in the Sunshine,” she sings, “I went to take a walk / Just round the block / Just to feel the wind blow.” Good, evergreen advice from a licensed professional.
Sam Prekop, Open Close
In 2008, I picked up a CD copy of the Sea and Cake’s Car Alarm from a Barnes and Noble and discovered one of my alltimer bands. With their knotty and expansive arrangements, unorthodox rhythms, and airy melodies, I truly believe they’re one of the most underrated and influential acts Chicago has produced since I’ve been alive. When frontman Sam Prekop pivoted to lush and intricate modular compositions with a 2010 solo LP called Old Punch Card, that record unlocked new ways I could think about and appreciate music. He’s been tweaking and refining this palate ever since. In January, I saw him perform a solo synth set, opening up for Ryley Walker at the Empty Bottle, and it remains one of the most captivating and immersive concert experiences I’ve witnessed in 2025. It turns out, some of those recent immaculately layered live compositions served as the basis for his new studio effort Open Close. The six songs here float and undulate patiently across 40 rich minutes. Where certain moments and textures interlock to a shimmering crescendo, the real joy of the record is in the slowest, sparsest moments. A meditative stunner throughout, be sure to listen with good headphones.
What I listened to:
The No Expectations 123 Playlist: Apple Music // Spotify // Tidal
1. Geese, “Getting Killed”
2. SML, “Taking out the Trash”
3. Ratboys, “Light Night Mountains All That”
4. Liam Kazar, “Day Off”
5. Motocrossed, “Drown (Country Grl)”
6. Joyer, “Glare of the Beer Can”
7. Modern Nature, “Radio”
8. Sharp Pins, “I Don’t Have The Heart”
9. Sam Prekop, “Open Close”
10. Jeff Tweedy, “Enough”
11. Prewn, “My Side”
12. Jessica Risker, “4am”
13. Thread of Mine, “Smaller than the universe”
14. Dry Cleaning, “Hit My Head All Day”
15. Bitchin Bajas, “Reno”
Gig recap: Tobacco City, Silver Synthetic, Grace Rogers (9/25)
It’s rare to see a bill where all three artists each have three of your favorite albums this year, but that happened Thursday when Chicago’s Tobacco City headlined Judson and Moore with New Orleans’ Silver Synthetic and Kentucky’s Grace Rogers. It was Tobacco City’s last show with longtime bassist Eliza Weber, who will be focusing on her psych project Glyders, which will release a sick new album in November called Forever. All three acts were incredible. While this was a one-off show, it’d be one of the best tours of 2025 if they all decided to hit the road together. Unreal how living in a city like Chicago can mean a random Thursday will likely have an unbelievably stacked lineup.
Gig recap: The Mountain Goats at Salt Shed (9/27)
In 2011, I was in college, and every summer I’d go to Lollapalooza. While I have my qualms with the festival now and haven’t attended a full day since 2019, it’s an unequivocal blast if you’re 19. One of the only things that really sticks out from that year was seeing the Mountain Goats play the Petrillo Music Shell, which I think was called the PlayStation Stage or some bullshit. Even though I would soon intern and freelance for The A.V. Club, a website whose staff then loved that band, I was and still am a fairly casual fan. The only four records I know front-to-back are 2002’s All Hail West Texas through 2005’s The Sunset Tree. Still, they played a song during their Lolla set that made me bawl. It was called “You Were Cool,” and to date, it hasn’t been released on one of their 23 studio albums. Frontman John Darnielle played it solo acoustic, and from the opening lines, I was enrapt. It’s a song about a high school friend of his who was horrifically bullied, and he sings lines like, “People were mean to you / But I always thought you were cool” and “It’s good to be young, but let’s not kid ourselves / It’s better to pass on through those years and come out the other side.” It’s definitely earnest, but it’s a beautiful and essential sentiment. If it never gets a proper studio treatment, I’ll still have that memory.
I don’t know why I never did a full deep dive after that. I think when you’re faced with a discography so expansive that studio albums total well into the twenties, it’s daunting. I’ve joked that they’re Phish for bookish elder millennials, but instead of winding jams, it’s being kind. But I’m grateful my sister and her husband got me to come with them for their “An Evening With” show at Salt Shed. Funnily enough, I was at the venue on Friday for my friends’ wedding, so it was cool to experience the place under drastically different circumstances within 24 hours. I knew less than 10 of the 24 tracks they played, but still had an absolute blast. The reason for their longevity is obvious. They’ve been around for as long as I’ve been alive, have influenced countless acts I love, and have managed to both fine-tune the songwriting and discover ways to keep things fresh. It’s honestly inspiring to see three guys decades into their career capture a crowd so intensely and still have fun doing it. There was an especially resonant moment where Darnielle paid tribute to Steve Albini with the new-to-me track “Shadow Song,” and multi-instrumentalist Matt Douglas adding sax to the mix was consistently gorgeous. No matter who is playing, if a loved one invites you to a show, you should go. You’ll have fun, see the world through their eyes, and likely find a rabbit hole to dive into.
Gig recap: Hand Habits, Fashion Club at Empty Bottle (9/28)
I don’t know of a day this year where I felt more burnt out than I did on Sunday, but Hand Habits not only has one of my favorite albums of the year in Blue Reminder, they also were responsible for my favorite Taste Profile interview of 2025. By the time I left the venue, I was totally rejuvenated and basically forgot that I spent the past few days out and about. Duffy is a phenomenal writer and one of my favorite guitarists: they shred but they’re really tasteful about it. Their playing is lyrical, dexterous, and unlocks so many melodic possibilities in their already airtight songs. (Just listen to any Hand Habits record, the Uhlmann / Duffy record from 2023, or see them tour with Perfume Genius). Hearing them live was fantastic: not only did Duffy rip through most of Reminder, they played older tunes that have meant a lot to me, like “Placeholder” and “What Lovers Do.” From their jokes about getting lesbians into the Grateful Dead to a goosebump-inducing opening set from Los Angeles’ Fashion Club, it was another perfect night at the Empty Bottle.
What I watched:
28 Years Later (directed by Danny Boyle)
Danny Boyle’s 2002 film 28 Days Later is the one movie I’ve rewatched more than anything else. I’m famously not a horror buff, but everything from the cinematography to the soundtrack, the frenetic pacing, the clever plot, and exceptional acting by Cillian Murphy, Brendan Gleeson, and Naomie Harris floored me as a kid. For a zombie movie, it’s surprisingly beautiful. It’s meditative and thought-provoking. While I was thrilled to see Trainspotting actor Robert Carlyle in the opening scenes of 28 Weeks Later, that sequel didn’t do much for me. It was a straightforward action flick without the soul of its predecessor. Because of my love for the original, I didn’t rush to the theaters to see 28 Years Later, even though Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland returned for the third installment. I finally got around to it Monday night, and I really dug it. Boyle is still one of film’s best stylists (I haven’t and probably won’t see Yesterday), and I think he and Garland did a good job of mining some of the atmosphere of their breakout without this ever feeling like a nostalgic facsimile. It’s a different film and that’s good. Still, it reminded me of another Garland and Boyle collaboration in Sunshine (the reason the two weren’t involved with 28 Weeks). That movie had a near-perfect first two-thirds and basically fell off the rails in its final act. Though I still need time to soak in the ending of 28 Years Later, that pretty much happened here as well. Better than I expected.
What I read:
Bad Company: Private Equity and the Death of the American Dream (by Megan Greenwell)
In 2019, Megan Greenwell was the editor-in-chief of Deadspin when a private equity firm called Great Hill Partners acquired the sports site as part of their purchase of Gizmodo Media Group and The Onion. After witnessing their onslaught of bad ideas, she resigned in disgust a few months later. By November, the entire staff quit after an ill-advised directive from higher-ups to “stick to sports.” This formative and upsetting professional experience served as the emotional core for Greenwell’s exhaustively reported, comprehensive, and human-centered book on the rise of private equity in American capitalism. From how it ravaged once-iconic companies like Toys ‘R Us, newspaper chains like Gannett, rural hospitals, and more, I was floored by how she focused on real people navigating these unpredictable shifts in business strategy, how it affected and sometimes devastated their lives, and how they fought back. If you’re curious about how PE works, how it could come for your job, and what it means for society to allow these groups free rein, I’d recommend picking up a copy.
The Weekly Chicago Show Calendar:
The gig calendar lives on the WTTW News website now. You can also subscribe to the newsletter I produce there called Daily Chicagoan to get it in your inbox a day early.