Music Review: On Cameron Winter

Tess Roberts (she/her) is a second-year student of English Literature and Gender Studies at UWA. Interested in creative writing, she also loves analysis of film, music and popular culture. She is a sub-editor in Film & Theatre at Pelican Magazine.

You may have heard the name Cameron Winter floating around the place. And if you have given any of his songs a try, I can be sure that you have either become disgustingly obsessed with him, or simply disgusted. I have found, during my very serious and unprofessional studies into this 24-year-old Brooklyn-bred artist, that there is never a middle ground when it comes to the reception of his music. This can be credited to his highly unique voice, his baritone vibratos and occasional voice cracks scaring away some listeners. Whether you love it or hate it, it is indisputable that Winter’s songs have this unique ability of finding and capturing you in a way that I haven’t seen achieved by a singer-songwriter in a long time.

Growing up in New York City with a writer for a mother and composer for a father, it makes sense that Winter found his artistry from a young age, forming the art-rock band, Geese, with three of his fellow school mates at the early age of twelve. In early February, they toured their critically acclaimed album Getting Killed across Australia, and I was lucky enough to experience a state of pure hypnosis during their sold-out show at Freo Social. Geese sailed us through a musical odyssey, from swaying side to side during Cobra, and reaching a trepidant resignation when being pulled to the ground by the mosh during Trinidad. Exiting the concert battered and bruised, I couldn’t help but find myself smiling. Watching Geese play felt less like viewing a rehearsed performance, and more like bystanding the creation of their music in real time. It was dazzling and it was new.

I only learnt of Geese after discovering and falling in love with Cameron Winter’s 2024 solo album, Heavy Metal, which I found perfectly encapsulated Winter’s sardonic humour, since the album couldn’t be less heavy metal. The production is founded on piano, with soft horns, acoustic strings, and whimsical percussive sounds weaving in and out. The album is deliberately inconsistent, both lyrically and musically. Winter will jump from an innocent declaration of love in Love Takes Miles, to describing a state of self-annihilating existential dread in the following track, Drinking Age.

At its core, everything about Heavy Metal is absurd! Winter cannot stop singing about feet, gorilla-fingered yapping dogs, and pondering whether God is actually real (spoiler: God is actually for real, I’m not kidding this time). But amongst the nonsensical, you begin to find meaning. One of my favourite lyrics is in the eighth track, Nina + Field of Cops, “Nina I’m not nothing, but when you lie on the piano / I am reminded I am stupid.” In just two lines, Winter is able to describe the helplessness that can arise from creating art in the context of what already exists. When legends like Nina Simone have already communicated your desired meaning perfectly.

Recently I found myself in an argument with my Dad (not uncommon) over the capacity for Winter’s music to be described as contemporary. I was obstinate that his rise in popularity could be credited to rather, his lack in contemporary sound. The intentionally unpolished vocals and darkly comedic lyricism reminded me of the pioneers of ‘60s and ‘70s folk, Bob Dylan, and Leonard Cohen. In response, my Dad argued that, despite Winter’s music containing these traditional elements, he has ultimately achieved this through a new, modern sound. Rather than recycling what has already been done, he has been able to revalue this singer-songwriter style for today’s youth. Just as I am writing this I am becoming more and more aware of how insufferable we had sounded. At the time, I think the argument mostly existed just to prove the other wrong, but despite this, I found truth in the conversation. In the end, we both realised we actually had been, in the wise words of Cameron Winter, “thinking the same thing.” So, upon reconsideration, I do believe that Cameron Winter can be described as contemporary because the independent music scene is already following in this young artist’s footsteps. The artist that still lives with his parents, creating the songs of today.

I was also lucky enough to experience Winter’s solo show at Forum Melbourne a week prior to the Geese concert. It was November last year when a colleague of mine excitedly told me that he had bought tickets for Winter’s Melbourne show in early 2026, unbeknownst to me that Winter was even going on tour at the time. So, after my shift, I rushed home and started planning. Fast forwarding to the 9 February, I found myself waiting in a line outside the Forum that twisted and turned into the graffitied alleyways of Melbourne city. When the doors finally opened and we entered the venue, we were immediately met with renaissance-like statues looming over both sides of the stage, posed against a ceiling infused with twinkling lights reminiscent of the night sky. On the stage, only a piano and microphone could be seen.

The pre-act was a delightful surprise! When fourteen-year-old Jing Tao walked on stage, raucous applause echoed across the venue. Playing a range of classical pieces and concluding with a remix of Michael Jackson’s Bad and Smooth Criminal, it was so refreshing to see such a talented young artist in a genre not usually foregrounded in current concert culture, to be given the spotlight. When Winter came on, he joked that he shouldn’t have chosen such a talented pre-act who “up-showed” his own piano skills. Over the next hour and half, a stripped-down version of Heavy Metal was performed. Unlike Geese’s concert, the audience grew completely silent, so that only the keys of the piano and Winter’s baritone vibrato could be heard. He experimented with each track, deliberately throwing us off in changing particular rhythms and enunciation. The highlight was during his song, $0. I felt in that moment, every person around me holding their breath. We were transported to a place where time was frozen, and where the only thing in the world that existed was the music playing right in front of us.

When back in Perth and reunited with that particular colleague, he expressed exactly the same thoughts. In my time of being a fan of Cameron Winter, what has most stood out to me is the beautiful conversations that have sparked from listening to his music. Despite having just over one million monthly listeners (and don’t get me wrong, that is a lot of people), I can’t help but feel an overwhelming, connective energy that radiates from the fanbase and into creative spaces. In the rise of passive listening, I believe that Winter’s music urges us to sit down, detach from our fast-paced lives and amongst the noise of everything, to listen.

Image credit: Wikipedia.com