Goon – Dream 3

I’m always on the lookout for bands that make me really sit up and take notice. Bands that demand your full attention and in return reward you with a totally unique listening experience. So it was with LA based Goon. I first stumbled into Goon’s world through the album Hour of Green Evening. It was one of those albums that stopped me in my tracks, full of subtle intricacies that revealed themselves over time. What struck me most back then was how naturally Kenny Becker’s songwriting balanced complexity and comfort. Those twisting chord changes never once felt unnatural. They just belonged. Just listen to the pocket epic that is ‘Emily Says’ to get a feel for what I mean. I can’t tell you how many hours, days even I’ve lost myself in that album’s grooves.

Goon are back again with a new album for 2025 and it feels like we are still living in the same world of Hour of Green Evening, but not quite.  Dream 3 feels like the next logical step and a bold sideways move all at once. It takes the gentle beauty of Hour of Green Evening and smudges it, letting the chaos in. The result is something rawer, stranger, and often more beautiful for it. Becker has said that Goon albums tend to reactions to previous albums and that’s noticeable here. Whilst Hour of Green Evening was grand in vista and almost pastoral in places with Dream 3 the tone shifts. The songs become a place for him to process the pain and grief caused by a relationship break up that happened whilst he was recording the album. The resulting songs are some of his most brutally honest to date.

I’ve had Dream 3 on repeat play for weeks now so I can really do the album justice so let’s drop the needle and dive in.

‘Begin Here’ sets the tone immediately. A gauzy wash of reversed guitars opens like the sun rising slowly on the album. Becker’s voice floats in, delicate and alien, with that comforting sense of calm. It builds patiently, layers blooming around his vocal before the whole thing dissolves again, almost embarrassed by its own grandeur. It’s a quietly stunning start — a song that’s all about disintegration, about finding your feet in the mess.

Picking the pace up next is ‘Closer To’. It’s radiant and propulsive, Becker’s voice carried by crisp drums and guitars that shimmer then buckle under their own weight. There’s a line “enter the fog, then the warning comes” that captures the whole mood of Dream 3. This is an album that walks the tightrope between clarity and collapse. The use of a scream as just another texture is another neat touch. The song drops to half time as it slowly devolves and disappears into the ether.

‘Patsy’s Twin’ feels like we are stepping back in the world of Hour Of Green Evening. But don’t be fooled. The guitars go scorched and angular, the rhythm section punching holes in the haze. It’s heavier than anything they’ve done before, almost veering into alt-metal territory for a moment, before folding back into that familiar Goon melancholy. You can sense Becker exorcising something here, the aftermath of heartbreak spilling into the performance. It’s noisy, cathartic, brilliant. You can feel a nod to Black Francis in the vocal delivery in the screaming parts.

It’s time for a reset next with ‘For Cutting The Grass’. Acoustic, open, and oddly pastoral. You can almost smell the soil in this one. It unravels in sections, moving from gentle fingerpicking into a low-slung groove, like a song in conversation with itself. There’s a calm acceptance beneath the melancholy, it’s a full stop in song form. That chorus section is so dark and sticky. I love how it evolves a little each time it comes around.

‘In the Early Autumn’ shimmers with late-afternoon light. It’s one of those deceptively simple Goon songs where every instrument seems to sync in time with the vocal. Becker’s voice remains fragile, androgynous, entirely his own just sits at the centre, describing scenes that feel half-remembered. The song never tries to resolve; it just lingers, content to fade like a dream you can’t quite recall.

Then comes ‘Apple Patch’, one of the shortest tracks here but one of the most vivid. It’s almost playful, full of strange little guitar figures and sleepy charm. Becker sounds dazed but warm, like he’s stepping out into sunlight for the first time in weeks. The rough edges make it even more endearing that 4-track, home-recorded energy comes through beautifully.

Resolving out of fractious glitches ‘Fruit Cup’ keeps that homespun magic going, a blur of bright chords and slightly woozy tempo changes. It feels effortless and instinctual. There’s something childlike in the melody, but underneath the sweetness, you can hear the ache of someone trying to convince themselves they’re okay.

‘Toluca’ is pure atmosphere. It feels almost Kosmische, what with those synth washes and low drone notes. The cyclical guitar part is hypnotic and you can easily imagine this ending up on a movie soundtrack in some travel montage scene, across some endless desert or across the vastness of space.

By the time ‘This Morning Six Rabbits Were Born’ arrives, the album feels like it’s entered its own wonderfully weird patchwork ecosystem. For me, it’s one of the most surreal songs Becker’s ever written with nature, birth, decay, and confusion all woven together. The arrangement swells and collapses repeatedly, guitars undulating like waves. It’s the kind of track that could only have come from Goon; both serene , tender and slightly scary.

‘Sunsweeping’ stretches out across five glorious minutes. It’s a slow-motion bloom of sound that recalls the emotional gravity of Hour of Green Evening but channels it through heavier textures. There’s a touch of OK Computer in the way it folds electronic haze into organic warmth, but Becker never feels like he’s borrowing. It’s all him. His voice breaks and reforms as the song peaks, guitars glowing like embers. It’s the emotional heart of the record.

‘Bottle’ soothes our ear. The production gets sparse again, and Becker sounds more human than anywhere else on the album. The melody tracks the vocal and what a gorgeous melody it is. There’s fragility in every syllable, but also peace. It’s a song about small moments, breath, stillness, light hitting glass. You can sense him beginning to make sense of everything that came before.

With heartbreaking intent ‘Fine’ edges us toward acceptance. The melody is simple, almost lullaby-like, but there’s weight beneath it. “I’m fine” is one of those lies we tell ourselves until it becomes true, and whilst Becker doesn’t openly sing that in the song that’s the feel he gives us.

And then ‘Jaw’ and its slow revelation. The band stretch out, letting the song breathe and ache. The guitars sound immense, warm and beautiful, Becker’s voice carried on a tide of acoustic vibes and memory. It feels like the moment where all the fragments of grief, nature, confusion and beauty aqll come together and finally make sense, if only for a second.  Such a magnificent end to our musical journey together.

I began this piece talking about bands that demand your full attention. Goon do that, and then some. Dream 3 is a world you fall into, full of heartbreak, wonder, and those flickers of joy that only come after the fall. Becker reimagines what beauty sounds like when it’s cracked and still shining. If Hour of Green Evening was dusk, Dream 3 is the moment the light finally returns. Goon have made something that feels like a full-circle moment. Dream 3 elevates itself into a world unto itself, hand-painted and glowing.

Dream 3 is out now via Born Losers Records. It’s now in it’s second pressing and you can check it out over on the Goon Bandcamp page.

You can follow Goon on social media here…

• Facebook
• Instagram
• Bandcamp