Ethel Cain's Preacher's Daughter and the Case for Concept Albums

*Promotional material for* Preacher’s Daughter, *published via Ethel Cain (@mothercain) on tumblr.*

On a blind listen, Ethel Cain’s debut album Preacher’s Daughter is a masterpiece amalgamation of gothic folk-rock and ethereal slowcore, Americana motifs, and the intensity of Evangelist gospel music. There is no denying the pleasure of listening to this album with no prior knowledge: the gorgeous, velvety voice and incredible vocal range of Ethel Cain (aka Hayden Silas Anhedönia) are all-encompassing while narrating Cain’s fraught journey from small-town Alabama, to Texas, across the Western US to the coast. The variety of genres, sounds, and rich instrumentals make the listening process very engaging, even with the album boasting four songs over seven minutes, with one nearing ten. Underneath Cain’s excellent musicianship, however, is a whole other layer waiting to be revealed: that of a master storyteller.

Opening with the distorted dregs of a preacher’s sermon, the album’s first track “Family Tree (Intro)” immediately introduces the album’s two major themes of family and religion. After the preacher’s disembodied voice declares “A mother is one of the most / Precious gifts that God gives to this world / Because the mother is the one who loves the Lord,” Cain goes on to ensure the listener that her story will not have a happy ending (sorry), establishing her doom with the line “The Fates already fucked me sideways / Swinging by my neck from the family tree.” Cain’s attempts to escape her family’s cycle of abuse will have a bloody conclusion, with the lyrics strongly implying violence from the outset. While the spoken excerpt used to introduce the album is taken from a recording of the sermon given at Anhedönia’s own great-grandmother’s funeral, Anhedönia clarifies that Ethel Cain is a fictional character, who exists to explore the darkest possibilities of the problems Anhedönia has faced in her own life.

The next five songs set the scene for Cain’s story, which takes place in a small town in Alabama in 1991, when Cain is around 20 years old. The upbeat, pop-rock “American Teenager” not only expresses Cain’s broad disillusionment with patriotism and the “American Dream” that valorizes the death of young people, but also fleshes out the character by introducing more context about her own experiences. The listener learns that she took over a role in her family’s church following the death of her father, while also turning to alcohol to cope, as she croons “Sunday morning / Hands over my knees in a room full of faces / I’m sorry if I sound off but I was probably wasted.” This is the first of several revelations about the troubled state of Ethel Cain’s life that set the scene for her story’s tragic unfolding. The tracks “A House in Nebraska” and “Western Nights” continue this trend, describing Cain’s past romantic embroilments. The first of the album’s super long tracks, “A House in Nebraska” sees a yearning Ethel Cain lamenting the departure of her lover over thick, nostalgic grand piano and electric guitar chords, with the outro a slow and quiet repetition of “I’m so alone out here / I feel so alone.” In “Western Nights” the narrator has found a new boy, but the song makes clear that he is violent both in general and towards Ethel Cain herself, who “Watched him show his love through shades of black and blue,” while he was also breaking into ATMs and getting into gunfights.

With Cain’s present looking adequately bleak, the record zooms out to discuss the personal and familial history of trauma that brought her to this place –– though her desire to escape will ultimately cost her her life. Here the listener hears the full version of “Family Tree,” which is far noisier than the abridged version that opens the album, and also contains further vivid allusions to physical and emotional violence. The track culminates in a gorgeous but haunting vocal run by Anhedönia: “Let Christ forgive these bones I’ve been hiding / And the bones I’m about to leave.” Violence lies both behind and ahead, both towards Cain and at her hands. “Hard Times” follows, a genuinely heart-wrenching ballad whose tragic tone is captured perfectly by Anhedönia’s soft yet robust voice. This song reveals that Ethel Cain was a victim of abuse at the hands of her father, the titular “preacher.”

Cain’s story returns to the present with “Thoroughfare,” boasting a playtime of 9 minutes and 27 seconds. Despite this, “Thoroughfare” is so story-based that it seems to pass in half the time, setting the album’s main events in motion. The protagonist flees home, and in doing so, finds a new man in Texas who offers to take her to California in his truck in search of a romantic life in the West: “And you said hey, do you wanna see the West with me? / ‘Cause love’s out there and I can’t leave it be.” The song concludes with two minutes of scatting and tambourine, leading the unsuspecting listener into the tragic climax of the album. The sultry “Gibson Girl” introduces us to Ethel Cain’s life in California, which is dark, seedy, and dictated by the whims of the man who brought her there. She begins to find that all the men in her life are destined to hurt her, as she is now being pimped out by the man who is supposed to love her: “And if you hate me / Please don’t tell me.” Additionally, “Gibson Girl” and the following track, “Ptolemaea,” make use of an unsettling voice distortion to portray Cain’s mental decline as a result of her abuse.

“Ptolemaea” is not a song to listen to casually –– in fact, I myself struggle to listen to it without feeling like I just watched the most bone-chilling horror movie in existence. This is because “Ptolemaea” is when Cain is murdered by her boyfriend, demonstrated by the moaning, stomach-churning build-up to one massive, shrill shriek of “STOP!” right at the 4-minute mark. “Ptolemaea” leads into two instrumentals: “August Underground” with its horrifyingly thick, reverberating bass that evokes the aftermath of a battle, and “Televangelism.” The name says it all –– the unmistakable church organ gospel sound of this track welcomes Ethel Cain to heaven and sees her, finally, at the end of her suffering.

Then come the album’s two concluding tracks, and my two favorites on the whole record. While safe in heaven, Ethel yearns for the life she left behind, and the one she wanted, in “Sun Bleached Flies.” The song is laced with a mournful resentment for how things turned out –– “God loves you, but not enough to save you” is a pretty good summary for the whole of Cain’s life, spent desperately searching for a salvation that wasn’t coming. The end of the track is gorgeous, lyrical, and so utterly devastating. Harkening back to her wish for love and peace, Cain croons, with a sense of irony: “I’m still praying for that house in Nebraska.” The final words of the song see her, in retrospect, gently laughing at herself for clinging to the comforts of her youth and the structures that failed to keep her safe: “I can’t let go when something’s broken / It’s all I know, and it’s all I want now.” “Strangers,” the album’s crowning masterpiece, rounds out the album’s story with the horrifying plot addition of Ethel’s murderer eating her in a final act of obsession. Echoing the introductory track, “Strangers” begins with a preacher’s drone promising a “better place” before launching into an anthem of female rage where Cain haunts her murderer as he cannibalizes her, crying “If I’m turning in your stomach and I’m making you feel sick / Am I making you feel sick?” This question is repeated 8 times. The album concludes with the titular preacher’s daughter reaching out to say a final goodbye to her mother from beyond the grave, ultimately forgiving her for perpetuating the abuse Cain suffered at the hands of the church and her family. Consoling her grieving mother, Cain sings matter-of-factly, “Don’t think about it too hard / Or you’ll never sleep a wink at night again.” The album ends with the electric guitar fade that has become so characteristic of Ethel Cain’s tragic story. Preacher’s Daughter makes a strong case for the concept album, leaving the listener with a sense of unease due to its subject matter –– but also in awe at the profound depth of layered artistry in the album.

Listen to Cain’s next release “Punish,” out November 1.