By Callum Foulds
Growing up over the last two decades as a queer music lover, I have witnessed a number of notable phenomena, one of these being the rise of the indie pop-star. Every ten years or so a new one appears, capturing the attention of all the cool kids around, those whom would be invited exclusively to the NME awards. In the 2000s you had punk electronica trailblazers, M.I.A and Alice Glass, the 2010s saw the slow but sure rise of alt-pop pioneers, Lana Del Rey and Charli XCX, and the 2020s has had the cementation of future superstars, Rina Sawayama and Muna. One artist I have missed here takes up a slightly different space in indie-pop. While all the artists mentioned have at one point set a firm foot into the landscape of pop, Ethel Cain has swerved this path; displayed by Cain’s show at Roundhouse in London, it is clear that her perpetually growing popularity is anything but suffering for it.
I couldn’t think of a more perfect space for the gothic majesty of an Ethel Cain gig. Roundhouse’s towering ceilings, circular walls, and big black pillars all pay homage to the type of cathedral that Cain’s music should be witnessed in. As she walks on stage, flashes of home video-style footage of Cain appear on a screen, enveloping her silhouette with images of her laying her hair down in a river and sitting with a red hoodie-wearing dummy. These familiar, yet strangely surreal images make up the better part of the Ethel Cain universe, ones that feel just a stone’s throw away from your own childhood.
A new song, ‘Dust Bowl’ opens the set, an ethereal swamp song that has crescendo after crescendo. ‘A House in Nebraska’ follows, the glorious, nearly ten-minute long, ballad from 2022’s Preacher’s Daughter. Cain’s voice is spectacular, (especially given her recent illness and lost voice after previous shows) slithering its way through fan favourites from the future classic record.
A couple more unreleased songs were played, with Cain asking for stillness from the audience during ‘Amber Waves’ and ‘Punish’. The performances of both were utterly hypnotic. ‘Gibson Girl’ and ‘Sun Bleached Flies’ closed the set; the former showcasing just how indebted Cain is to artists like Lana Del Rey and Sky Ferreira; a sultry grunge groove that had everyone singing along to lines that are “downright iconic”. “God loves you, but not enough to save you” is the centrepiece of ‘Sun Bleached Flies’, the entire crowd again raising their hands, showing their undying affection for Miss Cain, their true saviour.
The encore began with a cover of Jackie DeShannon’s classic, ‘Bette Davis Eyes’, which despite being covered countless times before, feels completely at home within the lore of Ethel Cain. ‘American Teenager’ finished the set proper, arguably the only unabashed pop-song from Cain’s debut record. It is a euphoric moment, closing the night with Cain fully immersed in the front-row congregation.
Ethel Cain is an unlikely pop star: her lyrics deal with some of the darkest themes I have heard put to sound; her music resides in a place where ambient and sludge-metal meet; and her songs are glacial. Yet somehow, these things have melded together to create an unassuming new force in alternative pop. Cain’s show at Roundhouse indicates her intention to stick around - she is here to show reverence for her home and influences, while adamant about doing something new. Ethel Cain is a unique figure in pop-culture, and if what we have seen already is anything to go by, I am confident that she will continue to strike sheer wonderment into the eyes of her disciples.
About the Writer:
Callum Foulds is a poet and recording artist based in Nottingham, England. They enjoy good food, scary movies and playing with their cat. They can often be found reading on the couch, or agonising over whatever creative venture they are currently embarking on. @cf_oulds
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