Live review: Ethel Cain delivers sweeping tempest of gothic masterclass

Hayden Anhedönia’s alter ego, Ethel Cain, has crossed the Atlantic once again for her more-than-anticipated return to the stage that once hosted her during a support slot for the brilliant boygenius, and after three years of supporting Bridgers, Baker, and Dacus on tour, it was now time for Cain to reclaim the Hall as her own gothic sanctuary.

Before the devout sermon began, London post-punk outfit Bar Italia treated the early arrivals to a masterclass in detached, jagged cool.

Their murky, dual-vocal tension provided a brilliant, sharp contrast to the widescreen emotional bleeding that was soon to follow.

Taking to the Halifax stage under an evanescent open sky that uncannily mirrored the shade of a glass of rosé, Cain, akin to a flaring shadow, appeared behind the rooted microphone, eager to encapsulate the travelling audience.

When Cain finally emerged from the backstage darkness, the response was nothing short of rapturous. "Hi, Halifax, it’s great to be back,” she murmured with a genuine southern-twanged warmth, a subtle brief flash of humanity before plunging the crowd directly into the ether of her evocative lyrics.

But it has to be said, when that blossoming sky above is framed by the towering, 18th-century stone colonnades of the sterling Halifax Piece Hall, Cain’s performance transcends a standard academy show and enters the realm of a religious experience.

And as the differing shades of hair dye that shaped the audience bubbled in anticipation for their prophet, the first chord of Sunday Morning was plucked to a screaming recognition that reverberated from the sea of vibrant hair colours.

Returning to this historic Yorkshire venue on her Willoughby Tucker Forever tour, Cain looked entirely at home, enclosed by the century old pillars.

She opened her stimulating set with a flawless three-song run: the slow-burning Sunday Morning, the deceptively euphoric stadium pop of American Teenager, and the haunting Janie.

The unrivalled crowd energy for American Teenager was a particular highlight, with thousands of fans screaming lyrics about generational trauma and unfulfilled dreams with the kind of unbridled joy usually reserved for a festival headline set.

Yet Cain’s true superpower lies in her unrivalled pacing.

She commanded the stage with a stillness that makes every slow, deliberate gesture feel monumental.

The mid-set was a devastating run of undisputed fan favourites.

The rare atmospheric weight of Dust Bowl and the soaring, tragic heights of Radio Towers held the courtyard in total silence of awe before the familiar opening piano chords of House In Nebraska triggered a collective wave of goosebumps and animated screeches of recognition.

It was a massive, echoing breakup anthem that felt uniquely mammoth rebounding off the stone walls of the Piece Hall.

For the anticipated encore, she shifted gears seamlessly.

The sultry, lo-fi indie-pop crunch of Crush had the entire courtyard moving with a pattern of unpredictability before she closed the night out with Thoroughfare.

The sprawling, nine-minute epic felt like a cinematic road trip through the bustling heart of America’s turmoil, complete with a communal, tambourine-shaking climax that left the audience deafeningly loud.

Unquestionably, this beloved venue was an acquainted, age-old playground for her; as back in 2023, she graced this very courtyard twice alongside indie royalty boygenius, and three years later, returning after a string of triumphant, sold-out European dates, she isn’t just a brilliant support act anymore.

Tonight, she is the high priestess of her own meticulously built Southern gothic fairy tale.

As this performance proved without a doubt that Ethel Cain isn't just maintaining her fiery momentum, she is expanding her mythos with a pace unmatched in the music scene.

Captivating, heartbreaking, and sonically monumental, it’s a show that will live long in the memory of the paved cobbles of the Piece Hall.