Ethel Cain is a character born from the wounds of religious fanaticism. The manifestation of Hayden Anhedönia, Cain’s tragic story draws heavily from the singer-songwriter’s own experiences growing up in a rural Southern Baptist town (and discovering her sexual and gender identity). Her music blurs the line between reality and fiction, and Cain’s narrative is one of trauma, abuse, and violence, as told on the Floridian’s critically acclaimed full-length debut, Preacher’s Daughter. Anhedönia’s sophomore album as Ethel Cain, Perverts, maintains the Southern gothic motif Anhedönia has established but uses slow unfurling swaths of ambience to continue her cathartic release—and it’s haunting.
The story on her debut followed Ethel Cain, the daughter of an abusive deacon father, as she became ensnared in an abusive romantic relationship. Eventually, Cain is murdered by her lover, who cannibalizes her, initiating her descent into heaven. The record’s mix of alternative rock, folk, and gothic-pop seemed at odds with such heavy subjects, perhaps even more so on the synthy “American Teenager”. However, Anhedönia’s singing and songwriting were deliberate. Her voice was front and center, telling the horrific tale with infectious melodies. For Perverts, she takes a vastly different approach.
Anhedönia gets more experimental, surrounding Ethel Cain and the narrative with ambience, drones, tape delays, and dousing her voice with even more reverb. Instead of using her voice, she allows space and time to tell the story or at least evoke its mood. The effect is quite unsettling. The album conjures up an ominous feeling not unlike that of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. For fans drawn to her pop sensibility, Perverts may come as a surprise, and its rewards might be too far out of reach.
“Perverts” opens the LP with a lo-fi version of the 19th-century hymn “Nearer, My God, to Thee”. It’s unhurried and warbled as if it were recorded in the 1940s. Much of the piece’s 12 minutes are dedicated to ambiance and drones, building tension throughout. The energy leads listeners into “Punish”, one of the singles with a Billie Eilish undertone. The faded piano chords and the long, drawn-out vowels unfold with melancholy. The climax is magnificent, with majestic strokes of overdriven guitar.
“Houseofpsychoticwomn” is another slow burn, with mostly ambiance. The eerie repetition of “I love you” carries the piece forward. “Vacillatator” begins with brushes on a drum set, still incredibly spacious and slow. “Onanist” rings out with an ancient piano. Keys are tapped one by one, and their tones meld together in some dissonant frames. Cain’s vocals are heavily distorted and manipulated, singing but sounding like she is lost in a distant agony.
Elsewhere, “Pulldrone” resembles spoken word poetry, with her verses giving way to humming drones and spooky sirens. The piece dissolves as a bow scrapes across strings, slowly petering out. “Etienne” is very similar to “Punish” with its lo-fi piano and the hushing of wind. A radio or television transmission ends the piece as the narrator says, “…that you didn’t want to kill yourself anymore.” Are they happy? Surprised? Disappointed? It’s hard to tell.
“Amber Waves” bookends Perverts and is by far the most rewarding part of the album. It took a long time to get there—the record clocks in around an hour and 40 minutes—but you finally get a glimmer of what Anhedönia can do as a singer-songwriter. The electric guitar and vocals, sounding far away, ailing, gives way to a beautiful moment—certainly a welcome one against the seething terror that lies beneath traditional and conservative zealotry.
Anhedönia’s concentrated self-loathing in Perverts is palpable, to the point that it may not elicit multiple listens. There is a lot of space between the parts that made her debut approachable. Perverts‘ experience is gloomy, powerful, and extremely terrifying—if anything, it is practically a masterclass on how to score for a horror film. While it’s true she could have easily continued along a similar path, writing alternative rock songs similar to her previous work, her daring effort here is admirable. It shows that she is willing to take chances and experiment because her music is less about her listeners and more about personal healing, and she will follow wherever the spirit of Ethel Cain leads her.