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Opening with an incessant and unnerving door creak, Ethel Cain’s newest single is undeniably raw, gritty, and perverse. Saturated in her distinctive sound — haunting vocals, disturbing themes of salvation and sexual deviance, and a guitar riff that subtly sneaks up on you — it’s hard to imagine anyone else could have written and produced it.
“Punish,” the first introduction to Cain’s highly anticipated sophomore album “Perverts,” explores what it means to be righteous under God, despite committing unforgivable sin. Is one a victim, tainted by nature’s poison, or are they held responsible and therefore, condemned by their actions? It delves into the complexity of moral reckoning, setting the stage for a project that promises to unflinchingly examine the blurred lines between personal blame and divine judgment.
After her success with “Preacher’s Daughter,” especially on her most commercially palatable track “American Teenager,” audiences would expect Cain to lean into broader mainstream appeal. However, this new era evidently signals the bold continuation of her uncompromising vision, without concern for conventional boundaries.
Regardless of the song being six minutes and 47 seconds long, its lyrics are elegantly spare and largely driven by the perfectly-paced, developing production. As a piano’s bare notes ring out in the first verse, she sings “I give in so easy / Nature chews on me” and a few lines later, “It has always been this way / It has always been this way.” This sentiment of surrender lays the foundation for the song’s intimate study of personal culpability versus existential victimhood.
The chorus and second verse are sung amidst the same sonic backdrop of the chilling piano; Yet, once she sings “Only God knows, only God would believe / That I was angel, but they made me leave,” it is clear that the track was meant to culminate in this moment. It reveals something more sinister about the song as the guitar is suddenly presented, flawed with significant resonance and occasional abrasive screeches.
This peak subtly resembles “Ptolemaea” and “August Underground” off of her previous album, with their same undercurrent of self-destruction, communicated through a growing, eerie tenseness. What began as a hushed confessional transformed into a suffocating cathedral of anguish, providing a raw glimpse into what the release of “Perverts” will have to offer in the winter.
—Staff writer Melina Fonseca can be reached at melina.fonseca@thecrimson.com.
