Ethel Cain, a Pittsburgh-native, considers herself ultimately to be a “low-energy, low-vibration, low-stamina person to begin with” — at least that’s what she told The Guardian earlier this year. However, the Aries brought her gloomy, yet sprightly show to New Orleans and blessed her ravenous fans with the kind of vivacity she claims isn’t a part of her candor. Even despite the logistical snafus, Mother Cain, as she is affectionately monikered by her fans, didn’t disappoint. (Cain was scheduled to play the smaller Toulouse Theatre nestled in the Quarter but had to move to The Joy Theater on the much buzzier Canal Street for reasons belonging only to the dark and mysterious).
Nashville’s Cult-of-Luna-esque doom/ambient outfit Wulven kicked off the show with a dark, ambient set with heavy bass that reverberated through the former Canal Street landmark movie palace built in 1947. Audience members found it hard not to headbang in time with the songs.. Existential, gloomy, and haunting, Wulven introduced the paracosm of Ethel Cain’s world perfectly.
Ethel Cain is known to her fans as a storyteller. Each song on her third album, Preacher’s Daughter, serves as a chapter in the life and death of the character in which she embodies. Born Hayden Silas Anhedönia, Cain invited her New Orleans congregation into her Southern gothic realm with a solemn, yearnful performance of “A House In Nebraska.” Cain stood center stage and called out to her lover, reflecting back on the time they shared in a form reminiscent of a Greek tragedy. The energy of the crowd, like a Greek chorus, mirrored her own, and switched sharply when the youthful pop anthem, “American Teenager” began. This fervent up and down of emotion continued throughout her set with “Family Tree,” a song which expresses Cain’s battle with religious generational trauma and her decision to leave her native of home of Florida.
The set design included a black curtain with colored lights, the guitarist, drummer, and Ethel. Cain’s stripped-down aesthetic was reflected in the stage design – a simple black curtain with colored lights, framed only by the band behind her. Though the show was condensed to an hour-long set, the audience experienced the highs and lows of Cain’s life, with some songs ending with climactic guitar and intense blues-y vocalizations. Noises of nature introduced “Hard Times” — a hush fell over the crowd as the chirping of crickets, frogs, and buzzing flies filled the theater. Cain, statuesque at the mic stand, narrated the tale of her relationship with her father. Around the pit, fans cried to the lyrics, “I’m tired of you still tied to me.”
Tears turned to excited screams as she transitioned to “Thoroughfare,” the song where she meets and befriends a strange man while hitchhiking in Texas. Listeners recognize this track as one of Cain’s most country songs. The band was more pared back, making this song very vocal-centric, though Ethel did bust out the harmonica. She led into “Gibson Girl,” the very sexy, guitar-heavy song that she apologized to her real father in the audience for. While the song is fun to sing and dance to, in the true Mother Cain fashion, it remains exceedingly grim. At this part of the story of Cain’s life, the man she met on the Texas thoroughfare is drugging and sexually assaulting her. “Gibson Girl” had everyone screaming to the lyrics, “Black leather and dark glasses, pourin’ another while I shake my ass / He’s cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed.” To end the show, Mother Cain performed the twelfth song on Preacher’s Daughter, “Sun-Bleached Flies,” inspired by the singer in the afterlife following her horrific murder by the Texas stranger in the aforementioned song.
For the encore, Cain tackled the very popular “Crush” from her second album, Inbred. She introduced this finale song by saying, “We left off on a sad note so this one is more fun.” She rushed into the crowd, singing into the eyes of the fans, her congregation, and holding their hands for what felt like a religious and holy experience.
