I’m not sure whether or not I mean it as a compliment when I say that Ethel Cain’s latest release, "Perverts," made me feel more disoriented and isolated than anything I’ve ever heard before.
Sitting in my room on a bright and cheery Wednesday morning, I pressed play on Cain’s new project, and I’d be lying if I said my first instinct wasn’t to turn it right back off. Somehow the album managed to transform a familiar space into a liminal one, and I felt utterly disconnected from my surroundings — like a stranger in my own home.
But the more I think about it, and the more online discourse I read about this incredibly alienating piece of work, the more I realize that it's disturbing, off-putting qualities are exactly what make it so impressive.
Based on the album’s title, as well as Cain’s familiarity with the taboo — an EP and track titled “Inbred,” and a cannibalism story-arc on her debut album, "Preacher’s Daughter" — I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t expecting to be disturbed upon this project’s release. However, I had hoped to be unsettled by lyricism and storytelling, rather than by almost 90 minutes of pure ambient drone noise.
The album fell short for me not because it was so haunting, but because it lacked my favorite element of Cain’s work: her lyricism. I want to be explicitly clear that I did not expect "Perverts" to compare to "Preacher’s Daughter," but I did expect it to have more than three songs with actual lyrics and a melody. For me, there has to be a balance between tracks with lyrics and instrumentals, and "Perverts" leaned too far into the latter.
That being said, the lyrics that Cain featured on this album were characteristically beautiful, intricate and thought-provoking. Cain is no stranger to storytelling in her works, and while the story of this project is nowhere near as intricate and linear as that of "Preacher’s Daughter," "Perverts" shines in its ability to connect with its listeners through various perspectives, making them question their beliefs and moral standing.
On the album’s second track, “Punish,” Cain sings from the perspective of the perverted.
She sings, “I am punished by love, / In the morning, / I will mar myself again / He was a natural Plauché / Saying ‘you won’t forget this / Shame is sharp / And my skin gives so easy’ / God only knows / Only God would believe / That I was an angel / But they made me leave.”
Here, and throughout the rest of the song, Cain laments on the nature of perversion, eliciting a sense of understanding from her listeners until they feel shameful and perverted themselves for the mere act of sympathizing. The following two tracks, “Houseofpsychoticwomn” and “Vacillator” build an increasingly horrifying soundscape until Cain begins to sing again, placing twisted lyrics upon a now deceptively comforting instrumental.