The new album from pop's most unlikely breakout star will floor you
When it comes to lore and myth-building, it's hard to outdo Ethel Cain.
The 27-year-old's legal name is Hayden Silas Anhedönia, a title she adopted at 20 when she came out as trans. She grew up in Tallahassee, Florida, the daughter of a deacon, sang in the church choir and was homeschooled until she left home at 18. After falling in and out of hard drugs and depression, she became a nail technician and began making music in her spare time, inspired by her oppressive Southern Baptist upbringing, horror movies and gothic Americana.
Three years after taking on the moniker Ethel Cain, she released her first LP Preacher's Daughter, a stunning concept album that fleshed out her alias' backstory. Set in 1991, 10 years after the death of the fictional Cain's preacher father, it invoked themes of intergenerational trauma, sexual violence and religious repression and ended with Cain being murdered, then cannibalised by her abusive boyfriend.
Musically, it landed somewhere between Cain's idols Florence + the Machine and Lana Del Rey, only stranger and more tortured. The album scored Cain an obsessive following that's grown too big to be called 'cult', recently shaken by the revelation of racist and unsavory tweets dredged up from when Cain was 19.
Cain addressed the controversy in a two-page Google Doc, taking accountability for what she says were the actions of a traumatised, attention-seeking teenager. 'As I move forward through my life, I aim to use my platform for good, for change, and for progress,' she said, words backed by her outspokenness on social media that has included criticism of both Biden and Trump and support for Palestine. The bulk of her fan base seems to have accepted her apology.
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Preacher's Daughter was the first in a trilogy of albums that Cain plans to accompany with a book series and film. Her following release, the claustrophobic drone EP Perverts, arrived as a curveball just a few months ago. Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You is a prequel to Preacher's Daughter, set five years earlier in 1986, following Cain's teenage breakup with her first love, the titular Tucker. Less varied in mood and sound than Preacher's Daughter, Willoughby Tucker might be somehow even more captivating.
The production is largely spare, spectral even. Opening track Janie is little more than guitar echo and Cain's heavenly, haunting vocals; A Knock On The Door is built around pastoral acoustic fingerpicking; instrumentals Willoughby's Theme and Willoughby's Interlude transition from delicate piano into panoramic reverb as dense and sparkling as a starry night.
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Sydney Morning Herald
18 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
The new album from pop's most unlikely breakout star will floor you
Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You When it comes to lore and myth-building, it's hard to outdo Ethel Cain. The 27-year-old's legal name is Hayden Silas Anhedönia, a title she adopted at 20 when she came out as trans. She grew up in Tallahassee, Florida, the daughter of a deacon, sang in the church choir and was homeschooled until she left home at 18. After falling in and out of hard drugs and depression, she became a nail technician and began making music in her spare time, inspired by her oppressive Southern Baptist upbringing, horror movies and gothic Americana. Three years after taking on the moniker Ethel Cain, she released her first LP Preacher's Daughter, a stunning concept album that fleshed out her alias' backstory. Set in 1991, 10 years after the death of the fictional Cain's preacher father, it invoked themes of intergenerational trauma, sexual violence and religious repression and ended with Cain being murdered, then cannibalised by her abusive boyfriend. Musically, it landed somewhere between Cain's idols Florence + the Machine and Lana Del Rey, only stranger and more tortured. The album scored Cain an obsessive following that's grown too big to be called 'cult', recently shaken by the revelation of racist and unsavory tweets dredged up from when Cain was 19. Cain addressed the controversy in a two-page Google Doc, taking accountability for what she says were the actions of a traumatised, attention-seeking teenager. 'As I move forward through my life, I aim to use my platform for good, for change, and for progress,' she said, words backed by her outspokenness on social media that has included criticism of both Biden and Trump and support for Palestine. The bulk of her fan base seems to have accepted her apology. Loading Preacher's Daughter was the first in a trilogy of albums that Cain plans to accompany with a book series and film. Her following release, the claustrophobic drone EP Perverts, arrived as a curveball just a few months ago. Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You is a prequel to Preacher's Daughter, set five years earlier in 1986, following Cain's teenage breakup with her first love, the titular Tucker. Less varied in mood and sound than Preacher's Daughter, Willoughby Tucker might be somehow even more captivating. The production is largely spare, spectral even. Opening track Janie is little more than guitar echo and Cain's heavenly, haunting vocals; A Knock On The Door is built around pastoral acoustic fingerpicking; instrumentals Willoughby's Theme and Willoughby's Interlude transition from delicate piano into panoramic reverb as dense and sparkling as a starry night.
The Age
18 hours ago
- The Age
The new album from pop's most unlikely breakout star will floor you
Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You When it comes to lore and myth-building, it's hard to outdo Ethel Cain. The 27-year-old's legal name is Hayden Silas Anhedönia, a title she adopted at 20 when she came out as trans. She grew up in Tallahassee, Florida, the daughter of a deacon, sang in the church choir and was homeschooled until she left home at 18. After falling in and out of hard drugs and depression, she became a nail technician and began making music in her spare time, inspired by her oppressive Southern Baptist upbringing, horror movies and gothic Americana. Three years after taking on the moniker Ethel Cain, she released her first LP Preacher's Daughter, a stunning concept album that fleshed out her alias' backstory. Set in 1991, 10 years after the death of the fictional Cain's preacher father, it invoked themes of intergenerational trauma, sexual violence and religious repression and ended with Cain being murdered, then cannibalised by her abusive boyfriend. Musically, it landed somewhere between Cain's idols Florence + the Machine and Lana Del Rey, only stranger and more tortured. The album scored Cain an obsessive following that's grown too big to be called 'cult', recently shaken by the revelation of racist and unsavory tweets dredged up from when Cain was 19. Cain addressed the controversy in a two-page Google Doc, taking accountability for what she says were the actions of a traumatised, attention-seeking teenager. 'As I move forward through my life, I aim to use my platform for good, for change, and for progress,' she said, words backed by her outspokenness on social media that has included criticism of both Biden and Trump and support for Palestine. The bulk of her fan base seems to have accepted her apology. Loading Preacher's Daughter was the first in a trilogy of albums that Cain plans to accompany with a book series and film. Her following release, the claustrophobic drone EP Perverts, arrived as a curveball just a few months ago. Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You is a prequel to Preacher's Daughter, set five years earlier in 1986, following Cain's teenage breakup with her first love, the titular Tucker. Less varied in mood and sound than Preacher's Daughter, Willoughby Tucker might be somehow even more captivating. The production is largely spare, spectral even. Opening track Janie is little more than guitar echo and Cain's heavenly, haunting vocals; A Knock On The Door is built around pastoral acoustic fingerpicking; instrumentals Willoughby's Theme and Willoughby's Interlude transition from delicate piano into panoramic reverb as dense and sparkling as a starry night.
Daily Telegraph
a day ago
- Daily Telegraph
Sydney Sweeney's real controversy is her terrible new movie
Don't miss out on the headlines from New Movies. Followed categories will be added to My News. REVIEW Who cares about a jeans ad? Sydney Sweeney's real controversy is the bell-bottom-of-the-barrel quality of her new movie, Americana. Newish, that is. The wannabe Western crime drama premiered at South by Southwest back in March 2023 and is only now skulking into some cinemas. It's a violently annoying and annoyingly violent ensemble piece speckled with 'look how wacky we are!' characters that are impossible to put up with; a copycat Coen Brothers yarn with the depth of a tortilla. The cast breakdown reads like a parody. Sydney Sweeney's latest movie to hit cinemas, 'Americana', is 'terrible'. Sweeney plays Penny Jo, a shy South Dakota waitress who dreams of becoming a country singer but has a stammer. We are supposed to accept that the constantly photographed Sweeney is a wallflower nobody pays any attention to. The actress' fake speech impediment, meanwhile, comes off both rehearsed and not nearly rehearsed enough. Penny Jo finally gets some human face time with a creepy loser. That's Lefty (Paul Walter Hauser), a breathy schlub who has proposed to four women this year alone. Despite his name, he's right-handed and tells everybody that. There's a little boy named Cal (Gavin Maddox Bergman), who insists he's the reincarnation of Sitting Bull, and shoots his mum's abusive boyfriend, Dillon (Eric Dane), with an arrow. Sweeney plays an aspiring country music singer. He links up with Native American Ghost Eye (Zahn McClarnon), the leader of a gun-totin' group that protects their tribal legacy with rifles. He says he took his moniker from the Forest Whitaker indie 'Ghost Dog.' And spitfire Mandy (Halsey) has escaped from her father's Warren Jeffs-type sex cult. And on and on. I was fed up with 'Americana' by minute 10, and the succeeding 100 did nothing to change my mind. Everybody in this quirk brigade is trying to get their hands on a rare Native American ghost shirt that's worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Ghost Eye wants the garment for its historic significance. The rest are hungry for the cash. At one point, a group of pretentious rich snobs displays it in their living room. The points writer-director Tony Tost makes are painfully obvious. Based on her prominence on the poster, you'd think so-so Sweeney is the lead. But the roles are equal in size — and irritation — and if there is any focal point, it's Halsey's Mandy, who has a meatier arc. Though, spoiler alert, Penny Jo finds her voice at the end, our eyes remain desert dry. Sweeney attended the "Americana" special screening in early August. Picture:for Lionsgate Tost bets that eccentricities will distract from his meandering, repetitive story, which amounts to an object changing hands a few times. Under more assured direction, the shoddy script could have amounted to something mediocre at least. When the Coens or Quentin Tarantino amp up the weird in their dark depictions of a dusty America, they do so with unsettling style and an enticingly skewed vision of reality to match. Of course, they, unlike Tost, also write strong screenplays. His 'Americana' is lifelessly visualised. Eye candy? Eye toothpaste. Pair pat-on-the-back lofty themes with bland imagery and artificially kooky characters speaking hokey, unconvincing dialogue, and you get a great big bore. Americana ends on a bloody standoff, an emotional death and a heartfelt reunion. And it's all as engrossing and moving as a tumbleweed. This story originally appeared on New York Post and was reproduced with permission Originally published as Sydney Sweeney's real controversy is her terrible new movie
