Ethel Cain—Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You

This album review is a tough one. Think of epic novels like War and Peace, Ulysses, or The Book of Leaves. My first thought was surprise. Despite only 10 tracks, the album stretches over an hour and thirteen minutes. As a newcomer to Ethel Cain’s world, I initially found the album slow, pained, and profoundly dark, almost oppressively so.

Having listened through the entire journey, my perspective shifted by the end. I listen to a lot of music, so I can appreciate the album’s ambition and depth, but the experience remains challenging.

The album opens with "Janie," a tough opener. Typically, you expect an invitation or seduction, but here, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Come in if you’re brave enough. Sit down. Take a Valium. As a staunch fan of Morrissey, the purveyor of doom and gloom, I’m used to being seduced before the jugular strike. Having listened to this album multiple times, my guard is well and truly smashed, and I feel deeply connected to it. Toward the end of the track, it faintly echoes Snow Patrol’s "Chasing Cars," but make no mistake, it’s far darker.

The next track, "Willoughby’s Theme," is an instrumental. This atmospheric piano piece starts gently but morphs into something darker, with an unhinged edge.

Forgive the next song its title, "F**k Me Eyes," but for me, it’s the standout track and no surprise it was released as a single. Far from crass, it’s a biographical exploration of someone searching for love in all the wrong ways. This slow-burn song, with its hypnotic, repetitive undercurrent, is mesmerising. At just over six minutes, it never feels long enough.

The other single, "Nettles," is a surprising choice given its eight-minute runtime. It’s deeply biographical, and you can’t help but be invested in its unfolding story. Despite its length, it feels effortless.

The same can’t be said for "Willoughby’s Interlude.", a glacial track which makes you feel every second of its seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds. Its placement feels jarring and disjointed; it might have worked better at the album’s end or as a hidden track.

"Dust Bowl" shares much of the same DNA as "Nettles." Another slow-burn biographical story, it grips unapologetically with sadness, regret, pain, and sorrow, the cornerstones of what makes this album compelling.

Vocally, "A Knock at the Door" offers a different sound. The vocals, are in a higher, more optimistic range, contrasting sharply with the artist’s usual darker, pessimistic tones. This is intriguing given the lyrical content, which is more concise than the album’s other, more verbose tracks.

Another instrumental interlude, "Radio Towers," is dark, sombre, and very slow. It feels almost like filler, lacking the merit of other tracks. That said, it transitions seamlessly into "Tempest," which, at just over 10 minutes, hardly needs an intro. This track’s brooding intensity sweeps you along willingly, acting like a remedy to the chaos in your thoughts, bringing order. The final three minutes, are anchored by a raw scream into the void.

At 15 minutes and 16 seconds, "Waco, Texas" dwarfs shorter tracks with its expansive, unhurried journey. It opens simply, with an acoustic guitar’s gentle strumming, laying the foundation for vocals that unfold with raw, captivating grace. A steady drumbeat comes in, driving the song forward with relentless pacing, later with a slide guitar entering, further enriching the atmosphere. The vocals, the true gem, shine brightest but fade by the 11-minute mark, leaving a mesmerising instrumental outro that closes both the track and the album in stunning fashion.

While this album might not grab you instantly, its depth and quality make it rewarding. The track order feels slightly off to me, a subjective nitpick, but it doesn’t detract from the brilliance. Even with just a couple of standout tracks, I’d recommend it, but it offers far more. There’s a wealth of music to discover, making it well worth your time.