In between Coachella performances, musician Ethel Cain swung by the alluvial valley of Pomona, California for a brief but dazzling set. I attended her show as a mild Ethel fan, knowing only American Teenager and Ptolemaea, and left the concert with a dozen frantically Shazam-ed songs and a deep appreciation for her sound.
Ethel Cain, the professional pseudonym for Hayden Silas Anhedönia, is a singer-songwriter from Perry, Florida. Her songs fixate on her experiences growing up in a Southern Baptist family, with her debut album aptly titled Preacher’s Daughter. Cain came out as gay when she was twelve and more recently as a trans woman. Her queerness was a source of contention within her hometown and religion, and Cain’s music explores these ideas in an equally stunning and haunting fashion.
Preacher’s Daughter, released just last year, combines dream pop and alternative sounds with Christian and gospel elements. From the gloomy violence of the album’s opening song “Family Tree” to its emotional climax in “Strangers,” Preacher’s Daughter is a thrilling listen. The album overflows with harrowing lyrics, distorted guitar strumming and bursts of teen-angst anthems. The creepier songs of the album, “Family Tree” and “Ptolemaea” to name a few, seem to climax in exorcism-esque finales, fitting for the circumstances surrounding the album’s creation.
Her concert primarily drew from this album. She opened with a new song, “famous last words (an ode to eaters),” then quickly delved into eight of Preacher’s Daughter’s greatest hits. During her song “Hard Times,” the artist Searows joined in with Cain to produce a lurid, sultry and melodic performance.
Partway into the concert, Cain threw on an old baseball cap, which she mischievously toyed with throughout. The audience was smitten! Preacher’s Daughter’s eerieness, largely absent from “Strangers” and “American Teenager,” seeped into the concert hall with Cain’s singing of “Family Tree.” Afterward, she invited us to embrace the country beats of “Thoroughfare” before switching to the darkly erotic “Gibson Girl,” baptizing listeners with its sensual lyrics and vocalization.
The crowd was charmed, especially during Cain’s brief interlude to preach (get it?) that all walks of life were welcome to her shows, and that she hoped her music was a safe space for listeners — especially those who were queer and unwelcome in their own communities. In recent months, Cain has become a cherished subculture symbol, rising in TikTok trends, dominating the American Girl Doll memes and even posing in Heaven by Marc Jacobs’ spring campaign.
I couldn’t have asked for a more magnificent Coachella substitute. Cain was worth the hour’s drive from LA to Pomona’s The Glass House, and I implore all readers to check out her discography immediately. Ethel Cain is novel, effusive and exactly the icon Gen-Z listeners have been grasping for.