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Salvation is never earned without the labor of trembling hands.

Ethel Cain made this exceptionally clear in her Boston performance of “The Willoughby Tucker Forever Tour,” extensively torturing her audience before delivering them into an all-consuming, rapturous ascension — and then doing so repeatedly.

For those unfamiliar, Ethel Cain is the stage name and brainchild of singer-songwriter Hayden Anhedönia. Loosely based on Anhedönia’s own upbringing — from rugged Southern roots to pervasive Christian influences — Cain takes shape as the fictional protagonist of Anhedönia’s ambitious debut record, “Preacher’s Daughter.”

While the lore runs deep, the concept album, put simply, is the immortalization of Cain’s tragic life; this includes religious trauma, the death of loved ones, substance addiction, domestic abuse, sexual exploitation, her murder and — most famously — as a final act of horror, the subsequent cannibalization of her body. It is a truly fascinating tale, executed with profound musical innovation and an immense attention to detail.

As though she couldn’t part from the narrative, this past summer, Anhedönia released its addendum, “Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You.” As the name suggests, it reflects on Cain’s high school boyfriend and first love, Willoughby Tucker, musing over the much-needed escape they provided each other, ruminating on what could have been had she not left him, and recognizing that they were both flawed in ways neither could ignore. She is now touring the new album and its live performances could not be more unsparing.

Setting the standard early on, the opening song — “Willoughby’s Theme” — began as a soft instrumental under an ambient glow, slowly morphing into a ringing resonance accompanied by a flickering of green, pulsating lights. The stage lighting was undeniably dynamic — a consistent theme throughout the show.

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Cain continued with “Janie,” a quiet inversion after the first song’s grandeur. It was at this moment that the stage design could be seen at its clearest: Willow tree branches curtained a set of mossy platforms and a wooden, cross-shaped mic stand, conveniently crucifixing Cain whenever she was backlit. During tender tracks like “Janie” — and later in the set, “Waco, Texas” — the set truly embodied a summer afternoon’s Sunday sermon. The songs began to sound like hymns and the orange, occasionally purple, hues began to look like a sunset piercing through the stained glass windows of a church.

Album singles “Fuck Me Eyes” and “Nettles” unsurprisingly had the most audience engagement. While “Fuck Me Eyes” was dazzling with its enhanced percussion, bolder vocals, and more daringly saturated lighting, “Nettles” was sentimental and romantic. Though the live banjo was a nice touch, it was an absolute misfortune the show failed to deliver a live performance of the fiddle — undoubtedly the most important, and heartwrenchingly devastating, feature of the song.

After this more easily accessible musical intermission, Cain transitioned into what would be the most agonizingly suspended hour of the human condition — lived, felt, and borne by her audience.

As she sang “Dust Bowl,” subdued and backlit by a rotating white light, the crowd writhed in anticipation of its sonic collapse. Undoubtedly a highlight of the show, on its cue, the lights turned off completely before rapidly flickering amid an intense reverberation, so visceral it could be felt in one’s chest.

Without missing a beat, the set eerily transitioned into its segment dedicated to Cain’s January 2025 release, “Perverts.” Featuring a portion of the titular song, under jittery flashing lights, Cain used the same haunting feedback and ritualistic cadence of its ghostly canticle to say in a voiceover, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on stage Jae Matthews of Boy Harsher.” A pleasure for Boston, Matthews joined Cain on stage to sing “Vacillator.” With their silhouettes and voices in prayer, the women knelt on the ground as they constantly reached for the other, building an unnerving tension but never satisfying a sense of relief.

This suspense advanced into “Onanist,” as howls of wind — severely warped and nightmarish — gnawed at the crowd’s nerves. Additionally, the enhanced fog on stage did nothing to lessen the dread brought by Cain’s angelic wails, clashing with both the strobing lights and the speaker’s searing distortion. Finally, however, at the song’s concluding apex there resulted a minutes-long scene reminiscent of traditional Christian depictions of Hell: Cain “crucified” against the cross-shaped mic stand, fiery red lighting surrounding her, and a strong dissonance.

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With every surge, one would think the intensity’s end was nearly at hand, but it only became more devouring and more unrelenting. That is, until the lights dimmed and reappeared as a deep blue to perform “A Knock at the Door.” In moments like these, Cain stripped the audience of its release, withholding catharsis and leaving only the ache of expectation.

Once comfortable, however, she would drench the venue in another wave of frustration. “Radio Towers” teased an additional punishing swell and, though “Tempest” partially fulfilled that promise, it was not as cataclysmic as one might hope after such an agonizing build up. By the end of final song “Waco, Texas” — even throughout its 15-minute entirety — there was no satisfying resolution. It was vulnerable, captivating, and powerful. But it was not conclusive to the turmoil that had agonizingly contributed to the audience’s anxious condition.

That is until Cain returned for her encore: “A House in Nebraska,” “Crush,” and “American Teenager.” Fans of the artist may have felt disappointed to find out that despite its relationship to “Preachers Daughter,” “The Willoughby Tucker Forever Tour” did not include songs from its predecessor and other earlier projects from Cain. However, their sudden appearance in the encore turned absence into reward, delivering the long-awaited closure that the main set originally denied.

At this point, the show felt less like a formal performance by character Ethel Cain and more like a heartfelt exchange from artist Hayden Anhedönia, with her taking the opportunity to bask in the heightened energy as she engaged with the audience. She made sure to take a moment to recognize the demand for a free Palestine, emphasized crowd response in lyrics integral to “A House in Nebraska,” paced the stage during “Crush,” and, for “American Teenager,” she spent the encore’s finale at the barricade, singing with fans.

Evidently, Cain’s mercy was never given freely, and perhaps that is what made it feel sacred. Rather than just receiving release, the crowd earned it. This deliverance became a reckoning and the reward — fervent and unforgiving — landed with a weight to which no ordinary catharsis could compare.

When Cain’s final scream faded and the lights cut, it was not the relief of completion but the awe of survival that lingered. In Cain’s world, salvation is wrought from labor, and in that labor, her artistry found its deepest impact. The audience walked away changed, carrying the imprint of a night that was merciless, exacting, and, in the end, absolutely worth it.

—Staff writer Melina Fonseca can be reached at melina.fonseca@thecrimson.com.