By Aidan Bearden / Staff Writer

Heavy Metal is far from sounding like Ozzy Osbourne, but Cameron Winter’s songwriting twists musical conventions much like the late heavy metal legend did 50 years ago. Winter, lead singer of rising indie rock band Geese, released his solo debut in December of last year. As the main songwriter for Geese, he strays from the full-band sound and instead focuses on complex piano ballads and intimate songwriting.

Across its 44-minute runtime, Winter’s lyricism is both poetic and brutally honest. On the intro track, “The Rolling Stones,” he warns his partner that art is ingrained in him over a beautifully gentle guitar lick. Winter compares himself to Rolling Stones multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones, who drowned while also struggling with drug problems: “Like Brian Jones, I was born to swim.”

That sense of dismal lyricism echoes throughout the album. Perhaps the simplest lyrically, “Drinking Age” contains the rawest and most heartbreaking performance of Winter’s discography. “Today I met who I’m going to be, and he’s a piece of shit,” he sings dramatically. His deep and powerful voice, combined with a surprisingly wide range and mesmerizing vibrato, makes him stand out among indie vocalists. At times, his delivery even evokes outsider artists like Daniel Johnston.

“Love Takes Miles” is easily one of the catchiest pop-rock songs of the decade. The chorus is infectious and sincerely optimistic. “Nausicaa (Love Will Be Revealed)” offers another upbeat moment, featuring bursts of horns and a polished studio sheen.

Most songs on Heavy Metal run a little over four minutes. The two longest tracks, “Nina + Field of Cops” and “$0,” appear near the end and are the album’s most sonically rich. “$0” is a gorgeous piano ballad about Winter’s partner making him feel worthless. His distressed vocals are phenomenal, while the central piano melody feels sent from the heavens.

By contrast, “Nina + Field of Cops” trades beauty for pure chaos. The nearly six-minute piece feels like a nightmare of Winter wailing and pounding his piano amid hushed, tense percussion. He delivers bizarre and cryptic lyrics without pause, creating a track so dense and surreal it could merit an essay of its own. The Nina character referenced here also appears in other songs, part of Winter’s technique of weaving lyrical motifs across the album and expanding it beyond a mere collection of tracks.

Instrumentally, Winter sounds most at home with the piano, but “Cancer of the Skull” and “Can’t Keep Anything” highlight his ability to craft somber, affecting guitar melodies. The former gains warmth from its horn arrangements, while the latter closes the album as a tender, transcendental piece.

With Heavy Metal, Winter has created a magical, melancholic masterpiece of self-expression. He continues to break free from the traditional song structures that singer-songwriters have followed for centuries. His solo debut proves that beyond his work with Geese, his creativity is truly generational.