Trigger warning: This article contains themes of sexual violence, drug use and religious trauma.
Hayden Silas Anhedönia, under the alias Ethel Cain, released her debut studio album “Preacher’s Daughter” on May 12, 2022. The album follows Cain’s efforts to achieve the American Dream, despite being born into immense poverty and a fanatical Southern Baptist community. The separation between Anhedönia and Cain can be hazy at times, as her discography includes songs about Anhedönia’s actual trauma and theatrical pieces describing fictional events and characters she created.
In a 2022 interview with “Billboard,” Anhedönia explains, “If I didn’t choose to heal and forgive and forget, I would be ultimately destroyed, which is what happens to her. She is the mirrored version of what my life would be like if I chose not to get better.” Although early events of the album are based on Anhedönia’s actual experiences of familial abuse, the latter half is a fictional narrative that explores themes of resilience, violence and redemption.
This album immediately resonated with me and has quickly become one of my favorites of all time. Since the album has come out, I’ve listened to it multiple times and always notice something new, whether it is a particularly striking lyric or an angelic chord that had previously gone unnoticed.
Due to diverse online fan communities and competing interpretations of Anhedönia’s discography, there may be disagreements over the timeline and exact events explored in this album. I relied on information from posts on Anhedönia’s personal Tumblr account, which is widely referred to as Diary of a Preacher’s Daughter (DOPD). I also took a substantial amount of information from “The Press” and Znek on Youtube.
For clarification, Cain’s narrative pivots down a path that Anhedönia herself did not experience. Her imagery and references to Southern Gothic and slasher culture can be unsettling at times, but it is all in the name of art. The allegorical narrative Anhedönia masterfully weaves is worth the investment to listen to all the way through, even if her music isn’t necessarily to your taste. Anhedönia’s love of the macabre and dramatic is evident in “Preacher’s Daughter” as inspirations from notorious “snuff films” and secular popular culture emerge throughout the album. But be warned, if “American Horror Story” was too much for you, this album may not be for you.
“Family Tree (Intro)”
“Family Tree” begins with an eerie repeating melody, backing a crackling recording of a sermon on motherly devotion. The tape is actually from Anhedonia’s great-grandmother’s funeral. Then Cain’s voice declares, “These crosses all over my body remind me of who I used to be.” Cain was once a devoted Baptist. However, after experiencing abuse, she begins to question the authority and legitimacy of the Church. She asserts, “Jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother’s blood,” and he cannot escape “what he’s made of.” Cain feels resentment towards her family, and powerless in the face of religious ideals and rigid expectations. She feels restricted by the confines of Baptist doctrine and the reality of poverty, blaming her family for bringing her into a world of suffering: “Fate’s already fucked me sideways.”
“American Teenager”
The tone shifts in the next track, “American Teenager,” as a dreamy guitar melody whisks listeners into the nostalgic world of Cain’s coming of age story. She describes the typical things American teenagers get up to: cheering for the local football team and partying with her friends. However, this song also emotionally reflects on the difficulties Cain faced as a teenager, such as witnessing the neighbor’s brother coming home “in a box” after choosing to serve his nation. Cain rationalizes his death by saying, “He wanted to go, so maybe it was his fault.” This line can be interpreted in a variety of ways, but I view it as a critique of the American Dream and the military industrial complex, which profits at the expense of human lives. This can also be interpreted as a projection of Cain’s fear of “leaving the nest,” a continual theme in the record.
This song also hints at the larger story of Cain’s family, Cain’s father, the town’s preacher, died in 1981, ten years prior to the events of the album. After her father’s death, she held services at the church, upholding her father’s reputation. However, Cain continues to struggle with her faith, pleading “Jesus, if you’re there, why do I feel so alone in this room with you?” Still, she puts up a front, serves her community and upholds the image of a perfect teenager, “I do it for my daddy…and I’m doing it well.”
Cain later turns to liquor for comfort. This leads to her being sick or leading church services while intoxicated. She doesn’t have an outlet to express her frustrations, clearly a result of her unstable home life, and comes to realize that violence is the most legitimate expression of emotions: “Say what you want, but say it like you mean it / with your fists for once.” Her understanding of violence as an act of valid expression represents a consistent behavior pattern, which traps her in a cycle of abusive men, beginning with her father and continued by various volatile love interests, who lead to her demise.
“American Teenager” is a pivotal point in the album, explaining the context of Cain’s psyche. Strict Southern Baptist ideologies and her existence in poverty set Cain up for failure; nevertheless, she remains optimistic about the future.
“A House In Nebraska”
“A House In Nebraska” is another song reflecting on Cain’s emotional situation, although more direct and vulnerable. Cain lets her guard down and bares her soul after the loss of her one true love, Willoughby Tucker. Set to a piercing piano track, the lyrics and pleading vocals put a sound to the raw emotions of heartbreak, “We had nothing except each other / You were my whole world / But then the day came / And you were up and gone.”
Although this house in Nebraska is purely fictional, (the concept was inspired by the Walden House in Quitman, Georgia) her vocals articulate real feelings of heartbreak. Cain is distraught by the loss of her true love and she cries for help: “I cry every day, and the bottles make it worse / ‘Cause you were the only one I was never scared to tell I hurt.” After the relationship ends, Ethel lies about being well, when really she would kill herself to “hold you [Willoughby] one more time.”
Although it is unclear why Tucker is no longer in Cain’s life, she blames herself for his absence, “It hurts to miss you / But it’s worse to know / That I’m the reason / You won’t come home.” She reminisces on the good times they spent together, walking across dirt roads so often that they paved new ones themselves.
This haunting track clearly articulates Cain’s grief. Cain is in mourning and vulnerable to the toxic men she attracts. These shady characters end up exploiting Cain’s emotional fragility. This, as well as Cain’s unreliable narration, makes it unclear what exactly Cain was doing in the time after Tucker’s departure, but it is clear that she is incapable of fully protecting herself, “I’m so alone out here without you, baby.”
“Western Nights”
In “Western Nights,” Cain begins her first relationship since Tucker left. Logan Phelps is the target of Ethel’s affections, but it’s evident that he is not a good man: “I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue / Starting fights at the bar across the street like you do.” Phelps uses her for sex, but she is steadfast in her commitment to him, “Trouble’s always gonna find you baby / But so will I.” Despite how enamored she is, Cain knows that she is not in a good situation: “Crying only because I’m happy / Hold me across every state line.” Cain is likely unable to escape Phelps due to her physical or financial situation. Instead, she begins to romanticize her volatile relationship with Phelps, which is a very common habit, or form of self-preservation. Despite her desperate situation, Cain continues to hold onto glimmers of hope, indoctrinated by a relentlessly optimistic American culture: “And know that one day, you and I could be okay.”
“Family Tree”
“Family Tree” recalls the first track of the album and Cain’s relationship with Phelps. Cain has fully embraced a dangerous lifestyle with Phelps, as she seemingly has no other choice: “Give myself up to him in offering / Let him make a woman out of me.” At the same time, Cain views herself as a “child,” but this does not mean that she is “not above violence.” Cain is still influenced by her father and keeps him in mind as she pushes through this chapter of her life: “And daddy said shoot first then run and don’t look back.”
Cain references the imagery in “Family Tree (Intro)” by deliberately taking the noose off from around her neck and using it as a defensive weapon: “I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again / Take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand.”
Cain begins to find her strength, while still feeling the guilt that the remnants of her faith brings, “These crosses all over my body / Remind me of who I used to be / Let Christ forgive these bones I’ve been hiding / And the bones I’m about to leave.” These lyrics callback to the first track of “Preacher’s Daughter,” but also signal Ethel’s resiliency–she’s seen hard times before and has persevered.
More information about Phelps and the couple’s criminal activities can be found in “The Madison Herald,” a fictional newspaper written by Anhedönia, although she uses various pen names to decorate the articles. These articles chronicle the events of Cain’s downfall, but are not necessary to understand the album. The fictional newspaper and other contributions by Anhedönia are compiled on a fan-run Ethel Cain Reddit page.
“Hard Times”
“Hard Times” is a truly heartbreaking track when Ethel reflects on the sexual abuse she endured at the hands of her father, though she was too young to understand. She describes a memory of her ninth birthday party, when her father lustfully stares at Ethel “dancing right there in the grass.” However, Cain was “too young / To noticе / That some types of love could bе bad.” Her habit of excusing men for their terrible behavior can be traced back to her father, who would assault her late into the night, when Ethel was “too tired to move, too tired to leave.”
This melancholy track tugs at the heartstrings and shows the broad spectrum of singing talent Cain is capable of. Listeners also get a clearer picture of her grief and the impact of the abuse from her father.
“Thoroughfare”
From this point on, the narrative shifts to fictional events that did not actually happen to Anhedönia. More context can be found at the aforementioned Reddit page.
Ethel’s fugitive status leads her to flee to Texas, where she meets a man named Isaiah Abhrams under some pretty questionable circumstances. Since she is an unreliable narrator, listeners cannot fully grasp her situation, but it does not seem safe. Missing posters for Cain began popping up around parts of Arlington, Texas as her mother and community grows more frantic trying to find her.
Fortunately, Cain fools herself enough to detach herself from the dangerous situation. Her languid guitar backings and idealistic lyrics feel appropriate for a beach picnic, not an abduction scenario. Cain describes her first encounter with Isaiah, who wears “some torn up clothes and a pistol in my pocket.” She says she “didn’t trust no one,” but Isaiah eventually convinces her to join him on his roadtrip to California.
They head towards the West Coast and spend weeks on end together. Likely a symptom of Stockholm syndrome, she begins to fall in love: “But in these motel rooms / I started to see you differently, oh / ‘Cause for the first time since I was a child / I could see a man who wasn’t angry.”
Cain deludes herself into enjoying the time she spends with Isaiah, as the relaxed country melody and crooning lyrics signify. At the end of their trip, Isaiah turns to Ethel and confesses his feelings towards her, and the two prepare to establish a new life together. Ethel is optimistic for the future and affectionate towards Isiah: “’Cause in your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place I think I’d ever wanna be.”
“Gibson Girl”
As it turns out, Isaiah is not to be trusted. Cain’s affections are repaid with abuse and subjugation. Isaiah drugs and prostitutes her. The influence of these dangerous surroundings are heard in the music, random glitches and minor dissonance chords, which create an eerie feeling of dread.
Cain has fallen for the lifestyle Isaiah has coerced her into. She sings about her “obsession with the money” and that she’s “addicted to the drugs,” while clients declare their love for her body, as they’re “fucking it up.” Cain is fled by dangerous abusers, who justify their actions, “‘Baby, if it feels good / Then it can’t be bad.’”
Cain fled her fanatically religious community in pursuit of a lifestyle befitting of the American Dream. Unfortunately, she falls down a dangerous path, is manipulated and ends up in the worst case scenario. She has no autonomy over herself, and succumbs to frequent hard drug use. She has no money, no defenses and no hope for a better future.
Further reading about Cain and Isaiah’s relationship can be found here.
“Ptolemaea”
Under the influence of Isaiah’s drugs, Cain hallucinates and interacts with evil spirits and even Death himself. “Ptolemaea” is by far the most chilling, theatrical piece on this album. The title references the ninth circle of Hell from Dante Alighieri’s “Inferno” that houses traitors, including Cain’s namesake, who is a biblical figure from the Book of Genesis.
Cain and Death engage in a back and forth dispute, her whispers contrasting Death’s deep, distorted voice (sung and edited by Anhedönia); this creates a tense atmosphere. Cain begs Death to stop, ultimately crescendoing into a powerful, guttural scream that signifies a turning point in the album.
No words can properly capture the emotional turmoil this song embodies. You must experience it for yourself.
“August Underground” and “Televangelism”
“August Underground” is a completely instrumental track that describes Cain’s murder by Isaiah. This song focuses on the physical action of her murder, while the next, “Televangelism,” focuses on Cain’s innermost thoughts as she is murdered. The sister tracks craft a narrative about a single moment of time.
Both tracks are dynamic and chilling in their own unique way. “August Underground” has an eerie feeling with distorted electric guitar chords and Cain’s whinings in the background. It is an audio encapsulation of agony as well as a testimony to Anhedönia’s composition skills. The touching piano featured in “Televangelism” conjures up nostalgic images of stained glass and lit altar candles; it fills me with an unfathomable sense of loss and comfort.
“Diary of A Preacher’s Daughter” confirms that after a drug-induced fit of paranoia, Cain physically attacks Isaiah, who easily overpowers her. Cain is unable to escape and is killed by Isaiah. Her body is placed in an industrial freezer and left to rot. A note from Isaiah to his mother can be read here.
“Sun Bleached Flies”
The final tracks take place after Cain’s murder and deal with Cain’s reflections on her life after her death. Cain is only able to find the strength necessary to live an autonomous life after death, “And I spend my life watching it go by from the sidelines / And God, I’ve tried, but I think it’s about time I put up a fight.”
Cain reconciles with the abuses she endured while she was alive and why she never returned to her Baptist community as the preacher’s daughter for support: “We all know how it goes / The more it hurts, the less it shows / But I still feel like they all know, and that’s why I can never go back home.” She fears being judged.
She also acknowledges her own role in her downfall, albeit under the control of manipulative men and dangerous drugs, “I can’t let go when something’s broken / It’s all I know and it’s all I want now.” This could also be a reference to her penchant for “bad boys,” who usually end up to be violent monsters. She makes the heartbreaking confession that she “always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me.”
Despite her tragic end, Cain is in good spirits in the afterlife. She croons, “If it’s meant to be then it will be” and “I forgive it all as it comes back to me.” Her only wish now is “that house in Nebraska” and dancing with her one true love, Willoughby Tucker.
This track never fails to send emotional daggers straight through my soul. The lyrics included in “Sun Bleached Flies” are devastating, yet hopeful and loving. The duality of this track splits me in two and makes it my favorite song on the album.
“Strangers”
In the album’s finale, Cain reaches out to her mother from beyond the grave and says a final goodbye over a somber guitar loop. She asks her mother to not “think about it too hard” or she’ll “never sleep a wink again at night.” She also asks her mother not to worry about her and assures they will eventually be together again.
Before this heartbreaking message can be delivered, Isaiah cannibalizes Cain. Yes, he eats her. However, she doesn’t mind: “You’re so handsome when I’m all over your mouth.” She also refers to herself as his “freezer bride” and cracks jokes about her tough hide: “How funny, I never considered myself [emotionally] tough.”
This deranged behavior is described as an act of love, “We’ll make love in your attic all night,” even as her memory is “restricted to a Polaroid in evidence.” She tells Isaiah that all she ever really wanted was to be his and asks if she’s “no good.” This split of Cain into two–a rational person who is very aware of her situation and a helplessly infatuated victim–is similar to the remarkable duality of “Sun Bleached Flies.” The shifts back and forth between Ethel narrating reliably and unreliably also adds depth to her story. It also humanizes Cain, for she is struggling against her circumstances and can barely navigate the terrifying situations she routinely finds herself in.
The song begins with the same tape recording from Anhedönia’s great-grandmother’s funeral used in the opening track, “Family Tree (Intro),” which sets a tranquil tone and creates a lovely full circle ending. Anhedönia’s gentle and fluid vocals float above dreamy guitar chords that gradually swell up in a tsunami of emotion that comes together to form the perfect finale.
This album is for the former-religious girlies who never put any stock into their Sunday school teachings. For the girls who stared at the stained glass windows as they tuned the preacher out. For the girls who collected bones from the forest floor and loved classic rock. For the girls like me.
