Album Review: “Perverts” by Ethel Cain

 “it’s happening to everybody”

Review of Perverts by Ethel Cain

What makes an album perfect? For some, it’s a classic with zero skips—every song a masterpiece. For others, it’s an album that taps into nostalgia, evoking memories of the “good old days.” But what happens when an album comes along that does the opposite? Instead of happiness and comfort, it chooses to disturb and disorient the listener deliberately. Can such an album still be considered perfect? I’m here to argue that it can—and my evidence is Perverts by Ethel Cain.

Before the release of Perverts, only a handful of albums had achieved this effect, including You Won’t Get What You Want by Daughters, Filth by Swans, and The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails. What these albums share is a dark narrative infused with unrelenting aggression. However, Perverts takes a different approach, delivering a slow-creeping suffocation through droning ambiance rather than the dominating vocal performances typical of these predecessors. In fact, Perverts could be described as “drone music,” a genre that prioritizes sustained sounds and effects over traditional songwriting. Yet, the 90 minute album stands apart, thanks to its carefully constructed atmosphere, woven through each of its nine tracks.

The opening track, “Perverts”, sets the tone for the album by relying heavily on ambient sounds rather than traditional singing, except for a few whispered phrases scattered throughout. The droning, radiant hum—frequently disrupted by what sounds like an out-of-tune bell—creates a profoundly unsettling experience. It feels as though I’m sinking into a hole in slow motion, evoking the same eerie, disorienting sensation as the "sunken place" scene in Jordan Peele’s Get Out. Then towards the end, a soft piano ballad is played which introduces the single off the album, Punish. 

The second track, “Punish”, delves into the harrowing narrative of a pedophile who, after being shot by the child’s father, now lives in exile. Consumed by guilt, he physically maims himself to mimic the bullet wound as a form of self-punishment. From the outset, I was struck by the song’s haunting lyrical content, particularly the unsettling repetition of the chorus:

“I am punished by love”
“I am punished by love”

The track begins as a delicate piano ballad, gradually building into a powerful crescendo of overwhelming guitar drones that underscore the final chorus, amplifying its emotional weight. However, the soft piano and searing guitar is immediately smothered by the intro to the third track, “Houseofpsychoticwomn”.

With an impressive runtime of 13 minutes and 36 seconds, Ethel Cain immediately reconstructs the dark, oppressive atmosphere established in the opening track, placing a strong emphasis on droning ambiance and repeated whispered phrases. This song, however, introduces a spiraling frequency that feels almost psychotic (pun intended?) as it loops incessantly throughout. As the track progresses, it dissolves into a chaotic blend of noise and droning synths, with Ethel Cain hauntingly repeating the phrase:

“I love you”

For me, this is by far the most perverse song on the album. Its intensity feels raw and unrelenting, yet it carries a corroded, decaying quality that is both unsettling and unforgettable.

Following this track is ”Vacillator”, a slow, minimalist piece built around a blues-inspired drumbeat that forms the backbone of the song. Ethel Cain’s soft, intimate vocal performance—a hallmark of her style—takes center stage here. Interestingly, the track feels like it could lean into R&B territory if the tempo were sped up slightly. The song’s deliberate pacing creates a sense of intimacy and unease, with each note and beat given ample space to breathe, building a dragging, almost suspenseful sensation. It’s as though the slow, tripping drumbeat is on the verge of colliding with the surrounding notes. Ethel Cain’s vocal ability shines in this track, perfectly complementing its understated yet haunting arrangement.

After “Vacillator” is “Onanist”, a track that left me completely in awe upon first listen. Ethel Cain delivers her most ethereal performance on the album, her vocals soaring with a siren-like quality - high and delicate, eveloping the track in a hypnotic trance. This dreamlike atmosphere is then disrupted by a droning guitar that gradually builds into a cinematic crescendo, evocative of a movie-level soundtrack. The rippling guitars are complemented by a booming yet soft bass, while Ethel Cain’s voice echoes hauntingly in the background, adding depth to the song’s immersive soundscape. 

The next song on the album, “Pulldrone”, can only be described as one of the most hauntingly depressing 13 minutes I’ve experienced. Yes, it’s another 13-minute track. This time, the piece prominently features a violin that plays throughout, evoking a sense of unease reminiscent of Midsommar. (For those who have seen the movie, you’ll know exactly what I mean.) While the track is still strong in its own right, it’s one of the weaker cuts on the album for me. Its extended runtime made it difficult to stay fully immersed, as the repetition began to feel overwhelming.

A similar sentiment applies to the album’s closing tracks, “Etienne”, “Thatorchia”, and
“Amber Waves”. While I can appreciate how the earlier tracks succeeded in enveloping me in the album’s oppressive atmosphere, these final songs didn’t introduce anything new to the experience. The droning ambiance that permeates these tracks, while consistent with the album’s tone, began to feel redundant. As a result, I found my attention waning, and the immersive spell of the album somewhat diminished. 

Despite the second half of the album, I still feel that Perverts is a perfect album. Listening to Perverts feels like I’m rotting away, decaying as the world moves on without me. Each song creeps in slowly, like roots growing into a decaying building—unyielding and unearthly—until it consumes everything. While the album is less immediately digestible than Ethel Cain’s previous works, I believe this was intentional, apart from a few tracks. Perverts wasn’t designed for easy listening; it’s meant to feel cold, bleak, and unsettling, serving its intricate narrative on the perversion of something as pure as love. I respect Ethel Cain for making this album as it can potentially scare away fans of her other work but I feel as a fan of music, these albums need to be created to constantly challenge our notion of what music is and what it can be. For those willing to give it a chance, this album offers a listening experience unlike anything else—a haunting yet beautiful journey.