Ethel Cain – ‘Perverts’ EP review: “Maybe it’s not meant to be explained”
THE SKINNY: It’s the quiet part of a horror movie that gets you, where something is bound to happen soon — or, better yet, the walk home from the cinema in the dark, where every shadow is a threat as that odd mix of suspense and catharsis, fear and relief, horror and comfort convene. For some, there is no state quite as beautiful, imbued with haunting, macabre uncanniness. For others, it’s horrifying. That is how Ethel Cain’s new project, Perverts, will split her audience.
The immediate elephant in the room is that the majority of the fans Ethel Cain, or Hayden Anhedönia, has picked up along the way since her debut album Preacher’s Daughter, will hate this project. Perverts is seventy per cent white and brown noise, unsettling whispers and synth throbs. It’s ambient music for a horror film, with the occasional twisted, dark lyricism but without the singalong moments she earlier provided on tracks like ‘American Teenager’ and ‘Crush’ that brought in a more mainstream crowd.
From start to finish, Perverts is a test designed to stare down that audience as she pushes way beyond the limits and expectations that are consistently assigned to promising new artists. For someone like Cain, who clearly has an incredible sense of vision and a desire to defy, those expectations are like shackles. Feeling more like performance art than any typical release from a blossoming new star, the project is a statement that Cain will not be the ‘star’ you want, making it obvious why she’s remained an independent artist with zero labels or higher-ups to convince or answer to.
For those who stay and who are willing to journey through this album with her, the reward is a staggering release unlike anything else. When playing some of these tracks live on her latest tour, Cain encouraged the crowd to stand still and simply let the songs pass through them. That instruction should apply to the entire album. “Maybe it’s not meant to be explained,” she sings on ‘Housofpsychoticwomn’, and it feels like a law for the release. While the nature of modern fandom sees listeners hungering for lore and constantly trying to unpack lyrics for real-life revelations or new nuggets of knowledge about the person behind the song, Cain doesn’t just slap away digging fingers but fully ties your hands behind your back and plays this project, one clearly made solely for her own passion and artistic vision, at you.
For people desperate for a way to connect this work to the world of Preacher’s Daughter, there are ways. ‘Housofpsychoticwomn’ whispers the same haunting “love you” as ‘Ptolomaea’. The throbbing synths and industrial guitars matched with haunting, echoing voices that colour instrumental tracks like ‘August Underground’ dominate here as if we reunite with Cain’s prior protagonist now trapped in purgatory, spiralling these various circles of hell, torture and sometimes gloriously hellish pain.
Inspired by Knockemstiff by Donald Ray Pollock and other character anthologies, Cain sees each track as an exploration into a different pervert or a different kind of perversion. This theme of self and social isolation, of punishing the self to save others, or a curse lingering over a person’s entire existence is a profound one. Listeners are pushed into these psyches as Cain either lyrically picks through them or merely soundtracks your visit, meaning that even in the solely instrumental moments, there is narrative to be immersed in.
But Perverts will be best enjoyed if viewed entirely separately. It’s clear that the artist has no fears about isolating the fan base she’s cultivated, but it’s also clear that while this album bears none of the markings that made Preacher’s Daughter so acclaimed, it still bears all of the promise and talent that made the artist herself so magnetic. Just like her debut, but in a completely different way, this is a project that speaks to a unique artist determined to walk her own path and take it as far as she wishes, which, in her case, is always deep into the furthest depths of the idea at hand, displaying a boldness of vision that few others working at the moment could boast or would ever dare to try.
For fans of: Watching horror movies as comfort films.
A concluding comment from Ethel Cain’s biggest fans on TikTok: “What the fuck is this?”
Perverts Track by track
‘Perverts’: Beginning with an unsettling and distorted hymn, Perverts begins as hauntingly cinematic as it remains, sounding like an album left playing in a haunted out or echoing discordant in the entryway to hell, building and building as you descend. [4/5]
‘Punish’: The project’s only single stands as the release’s most traditional song. The closest the piece ever gets to Cain’s prior release, her voice is as beautiful as ever, and the lyrics make poetry from a gruesome tale, explained by the artist to be about a paedophile left torturing himself in exile forever. [4.5/5]
‘Housofpsychoticwomn’: Sampling the “I love you” from ‘Ptolomaea, Cain once again explores how the simple declaration can turn haunting or horrific. Built mostly of white noise and synth throbs, with whispering voices moving from ear to ear like someone lingering behind you, it throws you into the mind of the psychotic and traps you there for 13 minutes. [4/5]
‘Vacillator’: Stunning and seductive, ‘Vacillator’ is somehow so rich and velvety while still maintaining the discordant, haunting tone of the whole project. “If you love me, keep it to yourself,” Cain croons, continuing her exploration into self and social isolation and the psyche of the deviant and the degenerate. [5/5]
‘Onanist’: From that moment of comfort, Cain drags you back into a state of unsettlement. Once agin, it sounds like a song left playing in an abandoned house as the singer’s echoing vocals sound like it’s various ghosts. With no real song structure, it returns to feeling more like a score than the recognisable sound many Cain fans will be hungering for, but that defiance makes it so great. [4/5]
‘Pulldrone’: The creepiest of all the tracks. Cain reads a poem like a sermon or a list of sins that seem to act like the album’s manifesto or perhaps the text where all these ideas came from. A track so rich with meaning and metaphor, it’s one to be unpacked over listen upon relisten as Cain’s talent requires time to chew on. And with 10 minutes of industrial, unsettling noise, she provides that time. [4/5]
‘Etienne’: Across every one of these tracks, there is so much fascination to be found. Cain sees each track as an exploration into a different pervert, so even on fully instrumental tracks like this, there is rich storytelling found in each note and each decision as the artist’s vision is so immersive. [3.5/5]
‘Thatorchia’: A final instrumental score piece to her horror movie of an album, with layered vocals over white and brown noise and heavy guitar strums. Once again, the dedication to her vision and the defiance of expectation is awe-inspiring. [3.5/5]
‘Amber Waves’: The project closes out with a more recognisable song that perfectly bridges this release with anything prior. “The devil I know is the devil I want,” she sings, so simple and so poetic. It is beautiful in the kind of gothic, uncanny way that Cain nails, feeling as if this lengthy, cinematic 11-minute-long opus comes as naturally as breathing to her. [5/5]
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