Ethel Cain’s latest album, “Perverts,” released on Jan. 8, divides and perplexes fans and critics alike. The album dives headfirst into themes of self, pleasure and religion through hair-raising ambient noises and Cain’s chilling vocals.
Hayden Silas Anhedönia, known professionally as Ethel Cain, holds a devout fanbase since the release of her critically acclaimed 2022 album “Preacher’s Daughter.” In “Perverts,” Cain diverges from the lyrical focus of her former releases and into a wholly auditory experience. The album’s inspiration — Cain’s fascination with the brutalist structures of a power plant in Pennsylvania — gives listeners some insight into the peculiarity of her new record.
The album opens with “Perverts,” the titular 12-minute track that immediately invites listeners into a universe of religiosity that Cain turns upside down. The song begins with a warped church hymn that invokes a sense of foreboding that is present, even stifling, throughout the entire record.
Cain’s music often problematizes religion, and “Perverts” is no exception. The second track, “Punish,” takes cues from the album opener and further establishes the record’s unsettling ambiance. The song’s lyrics are vulnerable and full of admissions of shame by Cain, while her powerful vocals create a weighty and emotional song for listeners.
“Housofpsychoticwomn” is an uncomfortable listen. The track’s distorted atmosphere resembles the sound of blood pumping in one’s ear — noises of choking and pain can also be heard. The track’s lyrics are spoken low and quiet, and the song’s refrain, “I love you,” becomes increasingly unnerving as the song progresses. But the creepiness of “Housofpsychoticwomn” is tamed by what follows.
The album’s standout track — “Vacillator” — is much more intimate and lyrical than the songs that precede it. Cain’s vocal layering infuses lyrics such as “You won’t lose / me to thunder or lightning / but you could / to crowded rooms” with a warmth that the rest of the album does not quite imitate. The song speaks to the boundaries and conflicts between physicality, intimacy and love.
But this warmth quickly dissipates with “Onanist,” the album’s next track. The echoes of Cain’s voice, alongside the sounds of screams and solemn piano music, convey the desperation within lyrics like “I want to know love / I want to know what it feels like.” From an explosion of sound near the song’s end emerges a singular voice to console the narrator. Much of the album utilizes this conversational tactic in which the narrator seems to commune with both the listener and a higher power interchangeably.
Despite being only nine songs long, the album — which has a runtime of 90 minutes — begins to drag by its midpoint. With each track landing at no shorter than six minutes each, the ambient noise of each record becomes repetitive. The charm of “Pulldrone” is slightly dampened by its length; its 15-minute run time highlights how the creativity of “Perverts” is hampered by its redundancy. “Pulldrone” is a perverse imitation of prayer, ending with a distorted “Amen” that is a more overt expression of the album’s core message: There is a fine line between good and evil, and subsequently, pleasure and pain.
“Etienne” and “Thatorchia” are the album’s most unabashed experiments with production. The former explores the idea of mortality through a distorted voice that begins narrating only near the song’s end. The latter is a bizarre listening experience with Cain showcasing her powerful vocals. “Amber Waves” is the album’s closer and an honest and powerful ending to what was an unexpected start to music in 2025.
“Perverts” by Ethel Cain is masterful. The album’s production showcases Cain’s skills and profound understanding of sound. Even without many words, Cain uses frightening ambient noise to create a universe that listeners can engage with introspectively. Its length is the record’s main shortcoming — songs like “Pulldrone” suffer from superfluous interludes that become repetitive early in the album.
Casual listeners of Cain may not appreciate the guttural exploration of sound, faith and love that is “Perverts.” In fact, it seems to only appeal to an audience already enshrined in the lore surrounding Cain and her music. “Perverts” appears to be a technical masterpiece for those within the know, while pulling those outside of it to dive into a world marked by perversity.
