In 2022, Ethel Cain released Preacher’s Daughter. Her debut was one of the most acclaimed albums of the year, yet it failed to chart. Fast-forward three years, and Preacher’s Daughter is currently No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 200 after finally being released on vinyl, just behind albums from Sabrina Carpenter, Morgan Wallen, and Bad Bunny. That makes her the first openly trans artist with a top-10 album in the chart’s decades-long history.
In a world where too many musicians stick to PR-approved scripts and try to game the algorithm, Cain is openly advocating to “#KillMoreCEOs” and releasing an anti-fame album titled Perverts — and she’s bigger than ever for it.
If you’ve never listened to Ethel Cain (the musical moniker of 27-year-old Hayden Silas Anhedönia) before and need a place to start, I would suggest “American Teenager.” The Obama-approved “fake pop song” is a haunting deconstruction of the American dream; if Perverts is her Metal Machine Music, this is her Nebraska. It’s also a key bit of lore in the “Ethel Cain Cinematic Universe,” but you don’t need a deep understanding of Cain’s fictional murderer Isaiah Abram to enjoy the violently buzzing “August Underground.” Or the painful “Hard Times.” Or the apocalyptic guitar solo in “Strangers.”
Preacher’s Daughter is resonating on a global scale in part because it’s immersive. It’s the kind of carefully-crafted, world-building album that’s made to be listened to in its eternity, with a narrative that speaks to people (especially queer folks) who have experienced grief and trauma. Even if you can’t relate to the specifics, you’ll be blown away by the overall experience.
Cain’s music is also a welcome and appealing contrast to the kind of Marvel Cinematic Universe-style winking irony that has taken over so much of culture. She wrote about this in a viral Tumblr post:
nobody takes anything f*cking seriously anymore. it makes me feel so crazy and annoyed because i am constantly bombarded by jokes constantly. it’s not even just me, i see it with literally every artist across multiple genres and mediums. and listen, i LOVE to laugh and i love funny sh*t but like. we are in an irony epidemic. there is such a loss of sincerity and everything has to be a joke at all times. the number of times i have to read the same stupid sh*t like “yes you ate that like isaiah ate ethel” over and over, it makes me SO mad. it’s not everyone obviously but it’s such a huge portion of the people who engage with me online and in real life that it’s truly inescapable. i feel like no matter what i make or what i do, it will always get turned into a f*cking joke. it’s genuinely so embarrassing.
Ethel Cain makes music that’s meant to envelop you, not be turned into a meme. I’ve seen concern among long-time fans that her recent surge in popularity could bring out the same people who meow at Mitski concerts (someone who knows a thing or two about the complications of standom). But Cain — who has a new album, Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You, coming out in August — doesn’t come across as an artist who bothers herself with pandering to the masses; she’s uncompromising in her creative vision.
I’ve only seen Ethel Cain live once. It was in 2023 at Utah’s fantastic Kilby Block Party. She was set to perform on Sunday evening, an unenviable timeslot during a three-day music festival. By that point, many attendees are already considering when to leave; there’s maybe enough energy for the headliner, but that’s about it. Yet despite the less-than-ideal scheduling, Cain drew one of the biggest crowds I saw all weekend.
Cain already had her fans at indie-leaning festivals; now the rest of the world is catching up.