Last night, the Roundhouse swarmed with gently gothic individuals, many with freshly dyed cherry-red hair; girls wearing floor length prairie dresses and ribbons in their plaited hair. There were also a significant number of people wearing jorts with matching denim waistcoats.
This meant only one thing: southern gothic sweetheart Ethel Cain was in town, and she delivered a hauntingly epic performance worthy of the screeching applause which reverberated throughout the venue.
