Forget the running time debate and appreciate an artist who releases midweek. Tyler, the Creator popped Chromakopia out on a Monday for our commute to and from work. It takes a minute to crawl down the stairs, shake off yesterday’s drink and secure yourself in the home office. Perverts. Objectively the best action Ethel Cain could have taken on a release like this is to subvert expectations not of her audience, but of herself. A trajectory was in place following Preacher’s Daughter and there is a worry of being pigeonholed in pursuing its success. Instead, a drone rock, darkwave powerhouse comes through. A genuinely sinister piece of work which, for the colder days of January, the darker nights, feels traumatic in the very best ways. Get swept up in the movement of Cain pushing for a leftfield next step.
What a way to start the year, with one of its most exciting and intense releases. Perverts is an exercise in patience, in allowing a narrative to unfold. Patches of silence throughout makes all the difference. Its impact is paramount to its success, the distance between dream-pop imagery and Cain as a present artist. Make no mistake, this is a continuation of the tones taken by Preacher’s Daughter but Perverts has a sense of a do-over to it, to give the instrumental void, but not the characters, a continuation. This is an exercise in how far an artist can push a listener’s goodwill. Not all of Perverts is a rough ride on the ears, Cain provides further proof of her vocal talents on lead single Punish. Brutal guitar work is the key to this track. Stunning material elevated further by a dark twang of instrumental lushness which works so well when adapting those drone rock fundamentals.
Perverts is as much about reinvention as it is about the artistic discovery that occurs only when artists push themselves into territory they had always wanted to visit. Crucial to Perverts is the sense of natural progression, of an already fully-fledged idea being on Cain’s mind before those first, whirring notes of Houseofpsychoticwomn begins. Perverts deals with a macabre but earnest tone. Blurring the line between the two is far trickier than first thought but Cain makes it sound like a natural pairing, a chance to develop those insecurities into defining features, into reflections of a confident persona. Her ambition is met by the instrumental vibrance, the coal-black pockets found in those drone-reliant moments.
That is not to say Perverts is nothing but drone rock and administered notes of instrumental evolution. Vacillator, while heavily reliant on the percussion and peace found in the steely quiet, is a soft knock at the dream-pop Cain is so exceptional at making. Where Cain’s interest lay now is no secret. After some respite of softer tones on Vacillator it is right back to the thump and echo of drone-like brilliance with Onanist. An atmospheric powerhouse is what Cain has on her hands here. Pulldrone brings out the best in this form, this articulation of finding peace amid a world degrading at rapid pace. In those experiences of the world around us the horror comes through, and for Cain, there is no short supply of material. Her experiences in a crumbling nation feed the horror, which grows and grows as Perverts pushes on. Its length is its biggest pitch, an hour-and-a-half of droning disgust, and it works every second of the way.
