Ethel Cain and Her Church of Hell

where music breaches a standstill between chaos and peace

“God loves you, but not enough to save you.” Preacher’s Daughter, Cain’s debut album, arrives as a painful testament to American way of life. Raised Southern Baptist, Ethel Cain knows the conservative constraints of religion, and not only is she rejecting the violence of traditionality, she’s dedicating her artistry to creating her very own Southern Epic, one in which being queer isn’t a death sentence, bold independent personalities are rewarded, and God is a force of guidance rather than servitude.

Ethel Cain’s music, infused with somber gothic chants, church-esque hymns, and unparalleled, tender melodies, is the essence of a revolution. A devastating, melancholy upheaval of American culture—the most unsettling version imaginable—an embrace of God and the remnants of Americana to those who were banished from it to begin with. It’s about reclaiming a world that nearly killed you.

There’s a certain tragic, unlovable nature to her work, an understanding to the loneliness of adult life, particularly as a young woman navigating a world riddled with drug abuse, violence, and depression. Occasionally, when Cain murmurs of love, it’s accompanied by an understood hollowness to the word, a deep unreachable experience that she’s been denied, not that she gave it enormous meaning to begin with. Nevertheless, a loveless, lonely life is a staple of great sadness. Even when she’s wanted for sex, Ethel Cain is alone, the people she pleases, they’re unknowable, a constant, eternal rotation of strangers to view her as a desirable girl, a Gibson Girl at that. Sexuality’s a dangerous game, though she’s well-versed. Still, Ethel Cain never romanticizes any of her struggles. She’s merely documenting the horrors of her life, and her voice echoes unprecedented power.

The church of Ethel Cain boasts flaming American flags, hunting rifles, platinum blonde wigs, empty country fields, and tattered gowns. Its discarded members are building a world of soft hardcore, controlled neglect, and comforting horror. Delve into the realm of Ethel Cain, get lost in the delicate chains of her religion, there’s no return.