I admittedly wasn’t the biggest fan of Ethel Cain’s debut “Preacher’s Daughter,” which was released to critical acclaim and received much praise from fans. I think it’s a good album, but some of its sharp songwriting got a bit lost in the dense layers of reverb that much of the album is soaked in. Still, I was very intrigued by the project, not just by Cain as a singer, but by her art’s haunting aesthetic and narrative. It tapped into a sort of rural horror space of isolation, religious trauma, and deep darkness, one that I found incredibly interesting.
Her new record, “Perverts” (billed as an EP despite its hefty runtime of over an hour), is quite a subversion from her earlier work. While it keeps certain aesthetic qualities that have become Cain’s hallmarks at this point, it detours away from the beautiful yet ominous dream pop explored on “Preacher’s Daughter” and instead delves into a dark, hulking drone sound. This is instantly clear from the desolate title track that opens the record, which layers bleak gray tones over an uneasy electronic frequency until the song makes the listener feel enveloped in some sort of horrible, breathing machine. The track is mostly instrumental, as is a good portion of the record, except for Cain’s distorted whispers proclaiming, “Heaven has forsaken the masturbator,” over and over. Tracks like “Housofpsychoticwomn” and “Pulldrone” are even harder to take in, with the former consisting of a gradually shifting, mechanical-sounding soundscape and the latter featuring bleak spoken word passages over a faint trail of eerie industrial noise. It sounds like some sort of ritual incantation, and while it’s definitely strange and confrontational, I think it’s pretty fantastic.
There are more accessible tracks on the record, so old fans may not be too alienated. The only single for the project, “Punish,” is a slow, brooding track with haunting vocals from Cain as she croons “I am punished by love” while dense guitars fill the background. It’s certainly no “American Teenager,” the closest thing her debut album had to a pop song, but it’s more recognizable and approachable than much of the sparse and skin-crawling ambient music that makes up the majority of the record. “Vacillator” is another of these tracks; it’s almost reminiscent of indie darlings Yo La Tengo but with darker tones and lyrics touching on contrasting themes of intense lust and frigid rejection. The soft drums paired with Cain’s delicate vocals are beautiful, and while the unease that hovers over the whole album is still palpable, it’s a bit of respite.
This record thrives on emptiness. So many of these songs feel like faint whispers over bleak silence. It establishes this grim and horrifying mood; the often minimalist approach contrasts with the grand and full sound of “Preacher’s Daughter.” It’s a record that requires full attention and a lot of immersion; there isn’t much in the way of a big hook or even a coherent song structure, but this abstraction makes it all the more intriguing and interesting to dive into.
“Perverts” concludes with “Amber Waves,” which harkens toward Cain’s roots as it embraces the dreamy, emotional slowcore she first became known for. It’s one of my favorite tracks, not only because it just sounds fantastic, but also because it’s lyrically heart-rending. Some of the bleakest lines are, “Yet here I am empty / Watching love of mine leave,” and “Maybe it’s true / You were nothing to me.” The song ends with Cain murmuring, “I can’t feel anything,” before the sprawling record finally draws to a fittingly hopeless ending.
I think that this is a great project overall. It’s incredibly unsettling and atmospheric, and while that may not sound appealing, I do think there’s a lot of beauty amid the keening drones and occult murmurings. It may be a hard pill to swallow for listeners not well-versed in ambient and drone music, as I’ve seen fairly divisive responses being confused about the shift in sound — even among Cain’s fanbase. However, I think that’s what makes Cain so interesting as an artist. She has cultivated a fairly large following and more notoriety as her career has blossomed and has doubled down in making the strange, elusive art that she wants to make, not giving into the safe choice of sticking to what led to her niche level of fame. “Perverts” is not just a great record, it’s a statement. Cain is paving her own lane, and she’s not going anywhere.
