As the sun set in the North Georgia sky, hordes of men dangled from truck beds, bright red bulldog merchandise floated throughout the crowd and the arena erupted with a howl-like chant when the players took formation. But this was not a Friday night football game at the University of Georgia; it was a Goose concert in Alpharetta, Ga.
Formed in 2014, the American rock band from Wilton, Conn. surged in popularity during the COVID-19 pandemic due to their embrace of livestreams and drive-in concerts. Comprising singer-guitarist Rick Mitarotonda, bassist Trevor Weekz, multi-instrumentalist Peter Anspach and drummer Cotter Ellis, the group offers a genre-bending sound — straddling indie, rock and folk — and improvisational live performances to eager crowds.
Before the quartet took the stage at Ameris Bank Amphitheater on Sept. 26, the young indie band Penelope Road entertained the early attendees. Emory University alum Koan Roy-Meighoo (25C) and bandmates Charles Eastman, Max Moore, James Kopp and Anthony Smith played under soft lights as the sun lingered on the horizon. With tracks like “Mercy” (2024) and “Out Tonight,” the band delivered pleasant harmonies, palpable chemistry and relatable lyricism. While the band crooned, girls swayed and sang along in the pit below them. Before sharing their final song, Moore cast his gaze across the vast amphitheater and expressed gratitude for the opportunity to begin the show.
“Thank you Goose so much for having us,” Moore said. “This is just unreal. Unbelievable, in fact.”
A crescent moon hung in the sky at 7:45 p.m. as more audience members filed in. Sporting inspired items like a white denim jacket with “Goose” in patchwork letters and Grateful Dead sunglasses, the incoming fans announced their musical alliances with branded apparel. Audience member and Georgia native Jodi Tiberio donned a navy blue Deadhead snapback. She and her husband, Roger Tiberio, first saw Goose in 2019 in Mexico, and she expressed particular admiration for the multi-instrumentalist Anspach.
“I love Peter,” Jodi Tiberio said. “Peter’s vibe and his energy is so cool.”
When Goose took the stage at 8:02 p.m., an enigmatic energy emanated from each band member. Standing — or sitting — four-across on an oriental rug with their respective instruments, the musicians appeared separated into their own private spheres. While their music mingled, the band interacted little with one another or the audience. On the left, Anspach settled into a spinning chair in front of a multitiered piano on which a rubber duck sat. Mitarotonda stood nearby in yellow Converse with a brown electric guitar slung across his shoulder and a soundboard at his feet. Weekz stood to Mitarotonda’s left, plucking his instrument and guarding the stuffed goose that lay across his amp. Finally, Ellis sat at his drumset, facing his bandmates. Each member wore their own costumes, from a blue T-shirt to an ushanka hat.
While the group offered experimental renditions of songs such as “Your Direction,” “Madalena” and “Animal” (2022), the concert design felt akin to a college football game. Like how fans of the Georgia Bulldogs flock to the University of Georgia’s Sanford Stadium to watch high-level athletes duel and dominate, fans of Goose gathered to observe talented musicians play together and play around. The compositions rarely mirrored the studio version as the band incorporated alternative sounds, riffs and solos that existed only for this audience.
Instead of a formulaic concert in which the band bounces between performing popular tracks and engaging with the audience, Goose offered an experience: a chance to listen to music-making in real time. Like a football game, it was less a spectacle and more a show of talent, expertise and experience. For one night, the crowd witnessed artists drift into an intangible flow state and reaped the benefits of their uninhibited production.
As songs slipped into prolonged instrumentals and flashing lights, audience members transformed from consumers to observers. Mitarotonda’s slender fingers danced across the guitar frets as Ellis extracted new sounds from the static drum set. Anspach bounced across the keyboard like a rabbit through thick brush and Weekz popped the strings of his hand-carved bass. With wide smiles and sweaty hair, Goose lost themselves in the sound, taking the audience with them.
In concert, Goose, with their improvisational instrumentals and disengaged presence, might not be for everyone. Their shows demand an intense admiration for artistic creation, confidence in public dancing and stamina for staying on your feet. But according to Roger Tiberio, one factor sets Goose apart: “their jams.”
Catherine Goodman (26C) is the Managing Editor of Arts & Life and Editorial Board. She is a double major in English and Art History. She plans to pursue arts and culture journalism, with a special interest in criticism and feature writing. When she isn't listening to music or writing her column, you can find her baking specialty cakes or playing with her dog, Apollo.
