Long Island City Here I Come

"Long Island City Here I Come" serves as the explosive closing track to Geese's 2025 album, Getting Killed. On the surface, it details a physical journey to the Queens neighborhood of Long Island City, but thematically, the location operates as a multifaceted metaphor for death, heaven, or an inescapable final destiny.

The lyrics grapple with themes of existential purpose and delusion. The narrator begins with supreme overconfidence ("Nobody knows where they're going except me") which slowly unravels into a chaotic admission of ignorance. This trajectory mirrors the experience of navigating early adulthood in a confusing world—feigning certainty while internally spiraling. The references to isolated, tragic figures (the limb-less man, the forgotten Joan of Arc) suggest a critique of male loneliness and the self-imposed isolation often found in modern "incel" subcultures, a theme lead singer Cameron Winter explored throughout the album.

By framing Long Island City—a rapidly gentrifying, industrial-turned-residential area—as a mystical "promised land," the band injects a sense of irony. It questions whether the goals we sprint toward (career success, urban living, status) are actually the paradise we imagine, or just another terminal stop where "the Sunday crowds are all my concubines and my enemies." ultimately, the song captures the tension between the desire for a meaningful destiny and the absurdity of the human condition.

The narrative begins with a bold, isolating declaration: the narrator asserts that while the masses are lost and aimless, he alone possesses a clear sense of direction. He recounts a series of surreal and slightly blasphemous encounters with historical and distinct figures. First, he speaks to a disillusioned Joan of Arc, who cynically warns him that even God has too many friends to remember everyone, suggesting a cosmic indifference to their plight.

The focus shifts to a character named Charles (referenced as 'Charlamagne'), whom the narrator questions about the end of the world. Charles speaks of masterpieces belonging to the dead and paranoid visions of surveillance, creating an atmosphere of conspiracy and doom. The narrator then invokes the biblical imagery of Joshua at the Battle of Jericho, threatening to destroy obstacles with the same kinetic force used to bring down the city's walls.

The journey continues with the story of a man born without limbs, destined only to 'jump in the air and clap.' This tragic figure accepts his fate, asking to be hung by a yo-yo or rope, believing that regardless of the method, he will eventually reach Long Island City. This destination is painted not just as a place, but as an inevitability—a final terminal for saints, sinners, and enemies alike. A woman named Maria issues an ultimatum to the narrator to either leave or stop his violent, nonsensical musical outbursts.

In the chaotic finale, the narrator compares himself to 'Charlamagne in Vietnam' and a traveler on a midnight bus. He admits a contradiction to his opening claim—confessing he actually has no idea where he is going—yet he sprints toward his destination anyway. The song culminates in a breathless, repetitive chant announcing his arrival, embracing the uncertainty with a manic, driving energy.

Released on September 26, 2025, as the final track of Geese's third studio album, Getting Killed, the song marks a significant evolution in the band's sound. It was produced by the band alongside famed producer Kenneth Blume (known as Kenny Beats), whose influence helped sharpen the band's chaotic energy into a tight, punchy recording.

The song originated as a solo piano ballad performed by frontman Cameron Winter during his individual sets. In its initial form, it was a stark, "thrashing" piano piece. However, when brought to the full band (including guitarist Emily Green, bassist Dominic DiGesu, and drummer Max Bassin), it transformed into a maximalist rock opera. Winter described the recording process as an attempt to capture the "male loneliness epidemic" through a lens of theatrical absurdity. The track was designed specifically to be the album closer, functioning as a "breathless sprint through the finish line" that resolves the tension built up over the previous tracks.

The song does not adhere to a strict, traditional rhyme scheme, instead favoring AABB or ABCB structures that dissolve into free verse as the chaos mounts. For example, "Joan/talk to you-know-who/talk to me too" creates a simple rhyme before breaking into longer, prose-like lines about the Lord's memory.

Rhythmically, the track is defined by a propulsive, driving meter that accelerates the listener toward the end. The "kick-kick-kicked" stuttering effect in the lyrics mimics the percussive beat, locking the vocal rhythm with the drums. The tempo is brisk and energetic, creating a feeling of running or rushing, which aligns perfectly with the lyrical theme of sprinting toward a destination. The interplay between the rigid piano chords and the loose, expressive vocals creates a tension that is released only in the final, explosive chorus.

Musically, the song employs a dynamic crescendo structure. It begins with a distinct, "thrashing" piano motif that anchors the track, reminiscent of vaudevillian or cabaret style but played with punk aggression. As the song progresses, the arrangement becomes increasingly dense, layering distorted guitars (played by Emily Green) and a "crunching" rhythm section.

Literarily, Winter uses unreliable narration. He shifts from claiming absolute knowledge to admitting total ignorance, a technique that creates irony and humanizes the speaker. The lyrics also utilize anaphora and repetition, particularly in the closing refrain "Here I come," which builds a sense of unstoppable momentum. The vocal delivery is theatrical, moving from a croon to a desperate shout, mirroring the song's descent from calculated observation to manic action.

Upon its release in late 2025, "Long Island City Here I Come" was quickly hailed by critics as a standout track and a "career-defining anthem" for Geese. Publications like The FADER and Beats Per Minute praised it as a brazen and "deliriously fun" closer that solidified Geese's status as leaders of the NYC indie rock revival.

The song's specific reference to a New York neighborhood resonated with local listeners, becoming a modern hymn for the city's relentless pace and existential grit. It cemented the album Getting Killed as a critical success, showcasing the band's ability to blend high-concept lyricism with accessible, high-energy rock. The track is frequently used as the set closer for their live shows, celebrated for its ability to incite mosh pits and singalongs simultaneously.

The lyrics are dense with historical and religious allusions that serve as metaphors for power, failure, and fate:

• Long Island City (LIC): Historically an industrial hub in NYC, here it symbolizes Heaven, the afterlife, or an ultimate inevitability. It is the place where all struggles end, regardless of how one lived ("So too shall I reach Long Island City").
• Joshua and Jericho: The line "Like Joshua kick-kick-kicked the king out of Jericho" references the biblical story where sound (trumpets/shouting) destroyed city walls. This metaphor empowers the narrator, suggesting his music/voice has destructive, transformative power.
• Charlamagne in Vietnam: A specific reference to the 90s comic book Charlamagne by Defiant Comics, where the protagonist leaves home after his brother goes missing in Vietnam. This symbolizes loss of innocence and a confused, wandering hero.
• The Man Without Limbs: Represents futility and performative existence. He is "born to jump in the air and clap" despite having no legs or arms—a grotesque image of trying to please others or find joy despite impossible handicaps.
• Cowbell with a Gun: A surreal image blending violence with musical absurdity, highlighting the chaotic and potentially dangerous nature of the narrator's artistic expression.

"Here I come" is the central hook and motif. repeated obsessively in the outro, it transforms from a warning into a mantra of acceptance. It signifies an arrival that cannot be stopped, whether that arrival is at a physical place or a state of being (like death).

The phrase "Nobody knows where they're going" is another key motif. Initially used to elevate the narrator above the masses ("except me"), it eventually encompasses him too ("I have no idea where I'm going"). This repetition highlights the song's core theme: the universal human experience of uncertainty disguised as confidence.