Ethel Cain - Preacher’s Daughter Review

Ethel Cain aka Hayden Anhedönia delivers sublime storytelling, punctuating the 76 minute runtime to unravel the lackluster (and in this case, fatal) reality of the American dream over 13 ethereal tracks.

Each time I’ve recommended Ethel Cain’s Preacher’s Daughter, I’ve described it as cinematic. Ethel Cain aka Hayden Anhedönia delivers sublime storytelling, punctuating the 76 minute runtime to unravel the lackluster (and in this case, fatal) reality of the American dream over 13 ethereal tracks.

I’d been looking forward to the record’s release since becoming an Ethel Cain champion after discovering the singer-songwriter through TikTok. I was instantly hooked on the viral hit ‘Crush’, a 2021 release which remains Cain’s most streamed song on Spotify. Now, Cain’s full-length conceptual debut is here. For clarity’s sake, when I refer to Cain I’m speaking of the record’s character, and the artist when I mention Anhedönia.

‘Family Tree (Intro)’ is a prelude to the bleak Gothic tale we’re about to be told, and we are immediately familiarised with the album’s religious overtones, as well as Cain’s troubled relationship with the Church, her family, and her lover. Cain is the eponymous preacher’s daughter - this is her story.

‘American Teenager’ allows Anhedönia to demonstrate her pop sensibility with the record’s most radio friendly track, relaying the empty promise of the American dream alongside the romanticisation of suburbia.

On first listen, ‘A House in Nebraska’ stood out to me. Cain sings of an old flame whose return she longs for, and though the track is nearly eight minutes long, it hardly feels like it and is easy to get lost in. The otherworldly guitar solo that spans the last minute and a half is thunderous, inciting instant goosebumps. It adds to the cinematic element - ‘A House in Nebraska’ is more than a song, it’s an experience, and we feel Cain’s heartache swell with every beat.

After reminiscing about her ex-lover, Cain questions her devotion to a new suitor whose violent nature often frightens her on ‘Western Nights’. The pre-chorus, where Cain sings “I’d hold the gun if you asked me to, but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to?” summaries their mercurial relationship. Subdued production with delicate piano helps relay Cain’s quiet discomfort.

On ‘Family Tree’, Cain seeks to be cleansed of her sins, but not by God - by her volatile lover. Hazy guitars and a sultry drum beat lay the track’s foundation and at the five minute mark we’re treated to some more explosive production as Cain belts the chorus one last time.

Here, we reach the final track in Act One of Preacher’s Daughter. ‘Hard Times’ deals with the heavy subject of childhood trauma, and Cain’s admiration of her father despite his abusive tendencies. Cain prays to be an image of her malevolent parent, and is frightened by this. She will always be tied to her father, and can’t fathom the emotional complexity of it. The songwriting on this track is brutally beautiful, laid bare by mellow instrumentation.

With ‘Thoroughfare’, Act Two of the album begins. After a deep dive into Cain’s childhood and adolescence over the first six songs, ‘Thoroughfare’ documents the escape from her hometown where she meets the track’s subject and runs away with him. A tambourine-led scat session is the most surprising musical element on this song; Anhedönia is flexing her creative muscles.

Cain once again finds herself mistreated at the hands of men on ‘Gibson Girl’, pimped out and drugged up by her new lover. Production wise, this is an unquestionably sexy track, though it is darkened by the song’s theme. Under the influence of drugs, Cain begins to hallucinate on ‘Ptolemaea’, where both sonically and lyrically, this track is a trip. At first it’s somber and woozy, then four minutes in, Cain screams ‘stop!’ and the track erupts into a flurry of distorted guitars, synth, and heavy drums as she flees. The outro plays like a horror monologue, exploring the origins of the cult that Cain was born into and how it doomed her from the start.

Cain escapes in her inebriated state, but is chased down and killed by her boyfriend on ‘August Underground’, an intense instrumental track named after an infamous snuff film of the same name. Then, into ‘Televangelism’, on which celestial piano scales portray Cain’s ascent into heaven after her murder.

In the afterlife, Cain makes peace with her death and reflects on her family and her first love, longing for the days in her father’s church, and at the house in Nebraska. There are certain motifs in this song that remind me of ‘American Teenager’. The percussion is punchy, with orchestral ambience and as always, powerful vocals.

The transcendent closer track ‘Strangers’ depicts Cain’s final journey as she is cannibalised by her killer. I’m almost lost for words at how divine an experience Anhedönia’s songwriting makes it out to be, with lyrics like “you're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth” and “can I be yours, if I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick?”

‘Strangers’ is like a gut punch, arranged to a skilful climax with anthemic guitars, then back down as Cain watches over her mother from Heaven and reassures “Mama, just know that I love you, and I'll see you when you get here”. There come the goosebumps again.

Preacher’s Daughter is without a doubt a top contender for album of the year. It’s a true masterpiece, a melting pot of macabre storytelling and ambient music. No one is doing it quite like Ethel Cain.