Ohmme’s Fantasize Your Ghost is a Searing, Unpredictable Journey
The Chicago art rock duo’s second album is technically sound and full of imagination

Listen to the guitar squalls and dramatically precise vocals of “Water,” a track from Ohmme’s 2018 debut full-length Parts, and it’s pretty apparent they’re on a different level than most rock bands. Like many groups, Macie Stewart and Sima Cunningham—the sole members of Ohmme—first met in high school, but their story definitely isn’t one of a fledgling garage band. Both are classically-trained musicians, became a part of Chicago’s improvisational music scene and have collaborative credits ranging from Whitney and Jeff Tweedy to Chance The Rapper and Vic Mensa. They’ve now become one of the Windy City’s best and most essential bands—not to mention their list of Chicago music connections is endless—and it’s for good reason. Their live shows are a spellbinding and enigmatic experience—Stewart’s violin skillfully thrashes as the duo constantly and gracefully molts throughout their pop-meets-art-rock repertoire.
They released their self-titled debut EP as Ohmme back in 2017, followed by Parts a year later. Their EP was mostly sparse, but it already had seeds of their interlocking vocals and experimental tendencies, while Parts, on the other hand, was much grander and more self-assured—moments of uplifting pop met their unpredictable rock, and it was a testament to their dynamic songwriting. That brings us to their new album Fantasize Your Ghost, a more gnarled and searing effort that’s still equipped with plenty of surprises.
The band has shown their sinister and vigorous sides before—the chunky guitar fuzz on “Fingerprints” is uncompromising, and “Grandmother” practically comes with a blowtorch and a jump scare—but their new album literally contains a four-minute-long track of nothing but spine-tingling guitar bleed (“Sturgeon Moon”). See also the opening track, “Flood Your Gut,” which features saintly whispers and spooky guitars and describes someone hiding in their sheets and another person of superhuman height. All that aside, the scariest moment is actually a brutal reality check: “You’re not your mother’s daughter / Your whole vision’s not enough.”
The lyrics on Parts were filled with abstract descriptions with striking emotional undercurrents, and Fantasize Your Ghost is similar in tone. “Selling Candy” illustrates this ability to fuse the surreal with the real, or, in this case, the whimsical with the nostalgic: “Crossed the big street, it’s not lava / The best hot dog guys got problems.” It’s easy to get lost in their stark imagery, but don’t fall asleep at the wheel—there’s always a moral truth or existential question waiting to slap you in the face. Take, for example, the end of the first verse on “3 2 4 3”: “If I hadn’t walked eight miles to make / Something else happen / The day would have slipped out of my grasp / Just like my reflection.”