Although Ethel Cain’s newest release may appear to be an unexpected pivot from her previous albums, “Perverts” still captures Cain’s raw, unwavering reverence. Through the discord of machine noises, Cain deftly weaves in her signature unrelenting desire and emotional earnestness. While “Perverts” is sonically darker than past releases, Florida-born and raised Hayden Silas Anhedönia, known as Ethel Cain, is no stranger to the taboo. Her previous album, “Preacher’s Daughter,” narrates the fictional story of the persona Ethel Cain, ending with gruesome cannibalism in the song “Strangers.”
Cain’s introduction to music began in the local church choir of her small, conservative town. Cain, a transgender woman, stated to W magazine that growing up, “It was me versus my whole town.” Her Southern Baptist upbringing has heavily influenced her music, which explores themes of religious trauma, sexuality and the American dream. While her popular past songs such as “Strangers” and “American Teenager” may have a more digestible sound, in their lyrics lingers the darkness that is unmistakably blatant in “Perverts.”
Although featuring long stretches of heavy, haunting instrumental, Cain’s gut-wrenching lyricism is more present than ever. The album begins with the title track, “Perverts,” as Cain vocalizes a rendition of the Christian hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” But unlike the original, this version opens with dissonant vocals before descending into heavy ambient instrumental. “Heaven has forsaken the masturbator,” Cain sings, “No one you know is a good person.” The title track is a dark, subversive tease of what is to come.
In the second track, “Punish,” she references the case of Leon Gary Plauché, who killed the man caught sexually abusing Plauché’s young son. “I am punished by love,” Cain sings, devastatingly, embodying the perspective of a predator. Cain does what many artists are afraid to do — inhibit the minds of monsters, the unforgivable. In “Housofpsychoticworm,” Cain whispers about love before the track deteriorates into mechanical whirring. She repeats “I love you,” so harsh that it echoes a command, hinting at the manipulation that can lurk within the belly of love.
“Vacillator” takes this love and warps it to intensity, reveling in its idealization. The title of the song describes a person who is hesitant and wavering, often out of fear. This song incarnates the push and pull between the desire for affection and the fear of potential pain. Cain’s voice is sweet and the instrumental is quiet: a gentle contrast to the previous tracks on the album.
“Pulldrone” is arguably the most lyrically complex of the album. Cain gently narrates her version of Jean Baudrillard’s “Simulacrum and Simulation” alongside a deep buzzing that slowly crescendos. The 12-minute-long track journeys through emotional shifts, reconciling the emptiness of grasping something larger than yourself. The album concludes with “Amber Waves,” whose gentle sound and topic of addiction echoes Cain’s past projects. The album closes with the line, “I can’t feel anything,” distorted and pained.
“Perverts” can be a difficult listen at times, featuring industrial drones and atmospheric dread, loud and raw with sparse vocals. However, it is this fervent uncomfortableness that unravels what “Perverts” is truly about. A pervert, in the world of Ethel Cain, is not just someone guilty of sexual deviance. It is about a desire to corrupt what is seen as natural, a disruption of the static normal.
Cain’s inspiration for the album came to her after stumbling upon the abandoned Bruce Mansfield power plant one night, fascinated by its towering, brutalist structure. The plant’s vast industrial emptiness mirrors the harsh sound of “Perverts” and its atmosphere of aching loneliness. The album grapples with the tension between pursuing pleasure and soothing the reprimands that follow.
Cain posted on Tumblr saying, “what i took away from the project was i’m still not sure what balance i think is healthiest to strike between neutrality and taking the beating of passing through the ring over and over. i suppose that’s for each listener to decide for themselves. maybe we’ll never know before we die. i guess only god knows.”