Farmer’s Wife lit up the stage at Subterranean in Chicago last night with a performance that felt equal parts séance and sonic catharsis. The Austin-based band brought a stormy, dream-laced energy that twisted through genres like vines—melding 90s dirge rock with ghostly 60s psychedelia and a shrug of 80s cool. Their set pulsed with a hypnotic intensity, wrapping the crowd in thick, woozy guitar textures and raw, brooding vocals that lingered long after the last note.
What sets Farmer’s Wife apart is their ability to feel both timeless and untethered—like a haunted mixtape dug up from somewhere deep in the American South, but laced with glitter and gasoline. There’s a theatrical edge to their performance, but it never feels forced; instead, it’s like watching a fever dream come alive under stage lights.
From the swells of reverb to the sudden crashes of emotional grit, the show was a captivating ride. If last night proved anything, it’s that Farmer’s Wife isn’t just blending genres—they’re conjuring something entirely their own.
