Ethel Cain – Perverse – Northern Transmissions

The opposite of perversion is perfection. In Christian theology, the image of perfection is manifested in God, the omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient being. The “perverts” are those who turn their backs on God, even if only slightly and for a short time. A single thought or action that deviates from his perfection leads the individual to the path of perversion, an undesirable life of sin and death. But compared to a perfect being, isn’t everything automatically perverse? Who decides what is perfect? Who decides guilt and shame, even if they are not ashamed of their actions? Is there such a thing as purity?

These questions underscore the central narrative of Ethel Cain’s upcoming EP Perverts, an experimental, largely ambient record that is monumental in length, design and concept. From the Old Hollywood-esque, grainy rendition of “Nearer My God to Thee” – a 19th-century Christian funeral song that uses the image of Jacob’s Ladder to imagine the long climb to salvation – that opens the title track, the EP becomes obsessed with purity. The object Cain most wants to recreate is water, a symbolic agent used in baptisms to wash away sins. After the hymn fades into “Perverts” and the air stills for a hair-second, the music submerges the listener’s head underwater, dulling Ethel Cain’s poetry into something almost incomprehensible. The rest of the piece is spent slowly escaping the pressure of the watery depths as Cain’s voice grows louder and clearer as she whimpers, “I was a good person,” the crickets’ chirping becomes less distant and the strings slowly become louder The sound of crashing waves to guide us to shore. But as Cain makes clear in the last line, “It happens to everyone,” the sense of guilt and imperfection never truly goes away, and our heads must return to the raging, suffocating water. Capturing the sound of a baptism – being pushed underwater and floating back up – informs the rest of the EP, as it both allows the music to take on a rhythmic, balanced pace and creates a narrative cycle of forgiveness and self-punishment that unity works conceptually. Knowing when to linger on a single note, when to transition from heavy industrial noise into ethereal echo harmonies, when to introduce dead noise, and when to suddenly pull the listener back into the hushed darkness made the listening experience a potentially taxing one Experience into a thrilling, beautiful one.

As far as production goes, “Perverts” is a marvel. By mastering the art of ambient and slowcore, Cain transforms the EP from a sonic journey into a psychological experience, a Rorschach inkblot test to see what feelings the raw sounds evoke in us. There’s as much catharsis as heartache in songs like “Onanist,” which revels in both the joys of perverted acts and the shame that results from them. In “Housofpsychoticwomn,” Cain has a constant throb that sounds like steady steps on a treadmill. As “I Love You” rings out around the skull in varying tones and volumes, the tempo trudges on, evoking a sense of inescapable dread. In “Pulldrone,” the only sound seemingly used is a repetitive buzzsaw noise that grinds hard against Cain’s quiet paraphrases of various Bible verses about identity and the separation of God and man. (Cain refers to the fall of Eve in the Book of Genesis with, “I want to know what God knows, and I will be with him,” and she adds an additional sentence to the line from the “Burning Bush” chapter of the Book of Exodus ” “I am what I am, but we are not the same.”) The circular saw sits next to each eardrum and approaches the brain. As she adds physical and emotional punch to the piece, it itself becomes melodic – the brain seeking the comfort of music amidst the surrounding chaos.

Although the ambient style gives “Perverts” a spooky, eerie sheen, the EP still brings beauty and relief in two standout tracks. “Vacillator” finally brings the listener to shore and offers a relaxed, country-rock inspired, tender song about sex. Here, an act that is taboo and forbidden in contemporary Christian culture is discussed without any connotation of dirt, but is presented as a profound, intimate act between two lovers. Likewise, “Amber Waves” reduces the industrial, metallic sounds and instead relies on the rich, warm tones of the piano and twangy country guitar, while the vocals gradually fade into gentle, angelic echoes. So the final track ends the EP on a hopeful note, arguing that self-forgiveness is essential to survival, even if you never truly feel “clean.”

Ethel Cain’s Perverts EP is not an easy listen: the songs are both thematically and musically challenging and the entire piece should be viewed as an experimental art project rather than a standard record. But when you sit down and listen to it, it’s clear that ambient was an excellent medium for capturing the time-consuming and arduous effort of unlearning the myth of perfection and instead reckoning with one’s imperfect self. Perverse is as beautiful as it is grotesque.