Year in review

We all have our COVID-era discoveries, and Nation of Language's debut LP was perfectly timed to be dug up by netizens and college radio DJs alike. Now a decade going, their sound has shifted but not at all compromised. This isn't their catchiest or most fun track, but it's one of their sleekest.

One of many examples of the ambiguity in the term "post-rock". Quade is closer to the Bark Psychosis side of things, but there's some stellar start/stop energy on this track in particular that inches weirdly close to Slint. Those drums don't set a rhythm so much as they attack once your guard is let down.

Electronic music needs to catch a groove sometimes. I love the more ambient textures and the IDM complexities, but if you have something going, it's good to sometimes just ride that wave. This is the album opener, setting the stage for something minimal yet spacious, colorful yet cool. Not so much a track to dance to — it's more about the temptation, I feel.

Everything I know about Maus seems to suggest he's a bit of a loser. It's for that reason I nearly avoided this album entirely, secretly praying he was actually mediocre this whole time so I didn't have to think about him anymore. In spite of myself, his distant crooning wins me over. An exceptional song for watching the night sky — caught between the past and present, but still feeling so far away. Or something stupid like that.

John Maus is the synthpop for falling asleep, while Sally Shapiro is the synthpop for waking up. Similarly soft, but less depressive and more uplifting. Two decades on from that debut record, and far from feeling desperate or exhausted, everything here just fits as if it were second nature.

In 2018, Domenique Dumont dropped the album that I will praise until I die. Everything before and after has been good, even great, but rarely finding that perfect spot in the sun that they once found. They've only done two full albums since, and one of them was basically a film score, so it might not be fair to hold them to the standards of their best album, but if any of their other songs could comfortably fit on that tracklist, it's easily this one. So many playful little details that have an exceptional amount of energy for something so soothing.

I doubt it's much of a hot take to say that this is the coolest thing Burial has done in years. From bus rides and 24 hour McDonald's to this bizarre droning epic that sounds like it's coming at you from miles overhead.

Each of Rochelle Jordan's past three albums have felt like her "breakout" in some sense, with each one raising her stock to new heights. I imagine part of that appeal is this comfortable middle ground she finds between house traditions and the more abstract electronic side, getting the most out of every corner she explores. It helps that she has such an exceptional voice, with this track in particular possibly being the best evidence of that so far in her career.

I very much appreciate Ellis-Bextor getting the respect she deserves on a more global scale what with the 'Murder on the Dance Floor' resurgence. That song is fantastic and will always be fantastic, and I imagine it provided additional motivation for an album that sounds this... expensive? Ambitious, if nothing else. For how often pop music suffers from these ambiguous walls of sound production-wise, you really feel every individual element to a song like Relentless Love. Everything from the physical to the digital feels methodical and perfected. Such an easy thing to take for granted, you don't notice it until it's been gone for a while.

I'll admit, too much of my listening in 2025 (and likely in 2026 as well) was defined by digital crate-digging the underground electronic scene. I tend to associate music with places in my mind, and had I become a cooler person than the one I am now, Job2.3 is the sort of place you'd spot me buried within. I know next to nothing about Drua or the countless other underground names who take refuge in the honorable mentions, though I suppose that's liberating in a way. The best song of the year could come from a person nobody's heard of and nobody's talking about. Or the 91st best song of the year in this case.

Ghedi seems to be going in a more dissonant and destructive direction with his work. And while he's always had his fans, it's only recently that he got that much-deserved wider recognition for his ambitions. A vicious track from a needly and almost apocalyptic folk record.

Stunning gentleness from this long-awaited debut LP, one that I imagine will someday get the respect it deserves once we stop ascribing entire genres to single artists (in this example, either Grouper or Julianna Barwick.) I went back-and-forth on what I'd consider to be my favorite track of the bunch, but Our Relativity might be the most structured for me, floating calmly yet with purpose.

Off-kilter, layered dance music that's probably hard to actually dance to. Avalon Emerson seems to be leaning further and further into a broader indie sound, which only makes sense for someone who has as much a knack for melody as she does for production.

Listen, listen... I knew about Geese since KEXP was playing singles off their 2021 record around the time of its release. They were promising up-and-comers who have recently become the obligatory spot on every year-end list, replacing Black Country New Road following the absence of their frontman. It's easy to get sick of bands like this once they become so ubiquitous, and Geese still runs that risk for me, but it's not like they can't still impress me. I very nearly put 'Taxes' in this spot for how cathartic it is, but my ultimate pick is the technical and anxious 'Bow Down' with its Lulu-style metaphors about being a car or whatever. I dig it.

I imagine it'll be another album or two before Dead Gowns gets their due. The sound is not out-of-fashion per se, but I feel it only gets wider critical recognition from more veteran indie acts like an Angel Olsen. I say that largely because a song like this feels destined to break through on sheer polish and presence alone, and somehow it never did. Once the indieheads get their hands on it though, I expect a follow-up album to get a proper push.

I'll admit to having been an Erika de Casier skeptic up to the point of this album's release. Too many unresolved melodies, or maybe just too distant for me. It's not that the things I disliked went away with her recent output, but she turned her weaknesses into strengths — that airy and atmospheric production style feels more involved and eclectic this time around. Case in point, 'Delusional' with its effortlessly cool choice of sampling. Apparently I'm not the first person who thinks it sounds a little like the horse sample in 'Frontier Psychiatrist', which made its inclusion on this list inevitable.

All my favorite Men I Trust songs tend to carry this simple and soft earworm quality. Groovy in the smallest possible way. A ton of the more successful or recognizable bedroom pop artists needed to reach a studio-style production to really hit the mark for me, but Men I Trust thrive in this small-scale intimacy.

Yes, I get it, it's very much not "industrial". There is a sense of desolation here, but certainly not hopelessness. More like finding beauty at the end of the world. Caroline Polachek continues to be a spectacular featured artist albeit in very unexpected places.

Such a small discography for an artist who is already one of electronic music's most promising prospects. A clear master of soundscape and subtle tension, stuff this ambient usually gets reserved for one of my many honorable mentions, but like with the Burials of the world, the truly exceptional find their way into a numbered position — this is two years in a row for fka boursin.

Like listening to The Innocence Mission demos muffled yet soothing from the next room over. The inclusion of Oliver Coates is an inspired decision, with both tracks featuring him being highlights on the album — 'Doubt' easily being my favorite of the whole tracklist.

I'm far from the biggest Jason Isbell fan in the world, yet it's his best material that routinely cements him as one of contemporary country's finest songwriters. His politically-aimed material might feel a bit too didactic for my tastes, but his quiet corner-of-the-room songs always draw me in with their sparsity and their lyrical detail. It's a rare yet commonly strived for effect from singer-songwriters in attempting to sound less like a voice in a speaker and more like a person in the room just out of view. Few have achieved it in recent memory quite like Isbell. 'Southeastern' might be his masterpiece, but this track would fit right in.

The algorithms keep telling me these guys are going to be my next favorite band, and unfortunately it hasn't fully clicked for me in the way I thought it would. I can't put my finger on it besides maybe an awkward balance between visceral and a very specific internet-brand of maximalism/experimental. Why is this song such an exception for me? That piano. It completely makes the song. Everything sounds better in connection to it — the deadpan vocals especially. Very cool — cool in a way that I hope they can replicate, as I can't think of any other artist who sounds quite like it.

The nastiest beat of the year — in a good way — paired with some of the nastiest voices in the genre — also in a good way. A shame about that album cover though. Kendrick Lamar features kind of scare me nowadays since they ran into the habit for a while of just feeling like a different song entirely, which is why I'm grateful he kept it to the beat provided.

Having talked about this circle of artists far too often by this point, I'll just say this: I prefer my 'Windmill Scene' bands to be a little gatekept. It's easier to be impressed by a Black Country New Road or a Black Midi when they're kept to Speedy Wunderground obsessives and forum posters, versus having countless thinkpieces about how they represent the future of something or other. It's kind of beautiful honestly to find such ambition in places that most tend to walk over. And should Moreish Idols someday find a more ubiquitous success, we can look back on tracks like this as evidence that sometimes, the future of music has been here all along.

History will be more than kind to Dawson. His working-class poeticism, his subtle sense of irony and humor, his ever-surprising vocal range, and his ability to balance more avant-garde elements with the more restrained and immediate tenants of folk music. 'Gondola' is actually one of his more normal-sounding songs, on one of his more normal-sounding albums, and while I wouldn't rank either as his finest, it certainly reignited my enthusiasm for his work yet again — something he has a habit of doing.

Throwbacks can feel a bit half-hearted if you're only trying to capture a general vibe. Enter this New Zealand house music duo who somehow — with the help of someone named "Saucy Lady" — makes a song that feels perfected and precise to a very specific sound or moment in time. We tend to remember the best stuff from the past, but with so much to recall, it's easy to let some things slip through. And this is way closer to a time capsule than it is a recreation. I didn't know I wanted this sound until I remembered it existed at all, some 20-30 years ago.

Some songs I pray to reach more ears, and others I realize wouldn't mean as much to the wider public. This one is closer to the latter, where the music being made is so niche in its appeal that I imagine most wouldn't get much of it — be it the 'mainstream' or even more traditional folk circles. That's a shame honestly, since I swear this is like the musical equivalent to opening your third eye. The people dancing in the music video understand it even more than I do. A good comparison in terms of appeal might be Colin Stetson? He got through to people with Red Dead Redemption 2 though, so anything's possible. I pray we get more artists following Chaimbeul's lead. For how droning it can be, the playing can feel almost robotic in how abruptly it moves.

Some things in art are just so innocent-feeling that they come with their inherent melancholy. As if to be reminded of that state of mind is to feel like it's lost somehow. A much more occasional beauty that Shura, alongside featured artist Cassandra Jenkins (herself an incredible musician in her own right), find preserved and protected by cynicism or irony. Just completely open-hearted and full.

Whitney feels very much like an indie era long since passed. Most of us really dug that debut album back in 2016 before losing track of them somewhere along the way and assuming there's some greater reason for that. Maybe they were just kinda cloying and cringy this whole time (e.g. Pinegrove). And at first this particular song was leaning toward that direction for me — a brief reminder of a band still stumbling by on reminders (e.g. Bloc Party). Instead, a few horns and a chorus-and-a-half fully convinced me that these guys must still have something going for them. AND I still like that first album. Also their second. And the Pinegrove stuff. Sorry Bloc Party.

I've joked once before about having a special affinity for songs that sound like they could be in a Super Monkey Ball soundtrack. That might just be because I like associating music with particular images or places, and electronic music more broadly seems to evoke those more abstract shapes/colors/monkeys/balls. I suppose this sound was always bound to be a little nostalgic, Monkey Ball or no. Evokes a very 90's grasp of what the future could have, and perhaps should have, been.

A nocturnal cityscape atmosphere broken up by frantic footwork rhythms — a testament to how effective footwork can be at balancing immediacy and the uncanny. Al Hanafi's stock only continues to rise, not only within her native Tunisia or the footwork genre, but throughout the wider world of sample-heavy electronics.

I mentioned earlier in this list about the rare art of specificity in throwbacks, where what might have otherwise been pastiche feels instead like an earnest, authentic send-up. And for every Kyle Gordon-style parody, you ought to have a genuine tribute too. Nuovo Testamento works in the sense that they'd not only fit in alongside retro italo-disco acts of prior eras, but also be legitimate competition for them in terms of quality.

Fantasies of frutiger aero, but without the cynical attempt to meet some half-nostalgic aesthetic. A great song to simply reside in; as gorgeous as it is peaceful, though always headed somewhere so as not to feel stagnant or cold.

Another artist I knew absolutely nothing about prior to 2025 — three albums in three decades under their own name, plus some work as a member of the group White Hinterland — who I also know nothing about — in the late 00's early 10's. Reception for this album was muted, though this eight-minute epic in particular I feel would have gotten major crossover if you submitted it to various indie radio stations and publications claiming it was by Sharon Van Etten. So cathartic despite not parading itself around like a song you have to wait for — it makes use of its time wisely without feeling artificially padded. Quite the opposite in fact — a radio edit would very much dampen the effect.

While very much in-line with Rose's prior album, this appears to be a standalone single? Or maybe it'll be attached to her next record if it continues down the same sonic direction. Weirdly suspenseful melodies, especially with that descending pre-chorus and how sharply the piano seems to switch from moment to moment. A jagged song emotionally, but ultimately uplifting in some bizarre way.

Save for a few songs here and there, I've never been a big Rosalía fan unfortunately. And while I wouldn't rank her newest record as the very best of the year like many publications placed it, I was still very much impressed with her dedication and her tact. 'Berghain' and 'Reliquia' tended to be most people's standout tracks, and I did like both a lot, but this one tended to get lost in the discourse which really is a shame — just an absolute powerhouse of a performance from everyone involved.

This entire album is far and away the pinnacle of an otherwise over-saturated "BBC 6 Neo-Soul" sound. These two feel made for each other in that I can't imagine this album being nearly as effective if you swapped either artist for another of similar talent. It's less about how well either person's efforts are individually and more about how neatly they intertwine. It was hard to decide on just one song, but the vocal sampled groove on this one is infectious even if in a more downtempo sense.

Still not on YouTube. Those orchestral-sounding crashes are absolutely ridiculous, bordering on cheesy but too impressive to cross over into anything other than awesome. The spiritual successor to those atrocious Call of Duty YouTuber intro songs, but in the sense that it actually sounds how those people probably originally intended.

▶ Listen on SoundCloud

Teyana Taylor's success as an actress this year comes as a contrast to her music career which came with an album rollout featuring an even more muted reception than she's used to. She certainly has a great album in there somewhere, though her best moments thus far have been in smaller batches. Case in point, the overwhelmingly sensual 'Bed of Roses' which if anything has only continued to grow on me as the year went on.

Not at all the sort of song I'd expect of Perfume Genius, nor would I expect the Aldous Harding feature despite it being a little more her wheelhouse by comparison. He carries 90% of the weight, and she carries it over the top the rest of the way (and then some.) Even for a more grounded Perfume Genius record, it carries a showmanship on par with the legends bending pop music to new heights.

Admittedly, Mestre is a completely new face to me. Not much older than myself, though she's been doing music since at least 2017, gradually rising the ranks nationally and even internationally. And while she hasn't exactly gone ultra-viral just yet, her eclectic range of influences will likely grab an even bigger audience in the years to come. A sound coming from a familiar place, though I can't quite pin an easy comparison. Makes you feel cooler for listening to it.

This song faced a bit of a challenge as it tended to be overshadowed by the song on this album that preceded it, the also incredible 'Eusexua' (which made my prior year's list.) I'd personally consider them about equal in quality, though Eusexua is the more surreal of the two, while Girl Feels Good is surprisingly easy to vibe with for an artist more often associated with transgression. I suppose you ought to know the rules before you try and break them, and FKA twigs has spent so long breaking the standards of pop music that it's similarly strange to see her embrace it — nevertheless in a very mechanical and bizarre way.

The closest you can get to Dreamcast-coded without feeling derivative or insincere. The sound of a future that we're hopefully still capable of reaching.

When I'm left alienated by the sort of internet-experimental side of music, I try to put myself in the shoes of those who swear by it as revelatory. If I am successful, I can imagine this song is what all the rest sound like. So ridiculous, yet so gorgeous. Third-eye opening.

I'm a sucker for the tropical, alright? Sue me. And from what I can tell, Pax is an artist just all over the place in terms of genre (I believe they're more often recognized for their footwork material), which makes the confidence here all the more incredible. An alternate reality hit in the indiesphere.

God, these stunningly raw harmonies aren't common enough in contemporary folk. Everyone wants to aim for polished and atmospheric, whereas The New Eves sound like they're in the room with you, imperfections somehow amounting to something even greater than it otherwise would have been. Apparently they got the Black Country New Road endorsement, and I can kind of see it in their willingness to go a bit rougher on the vocals. I very much appreciate that the song's breakdown leads into what feels like an inverse of the opening minutes. For as fun as going prog can be, sometimes the appeal with folk is finding ways to work within simplicity.

I don't know if Kehlani's been taking cues from SZA — specifically my absolute favorite aspect of SZA's music, that being a shockingly raw vulnerability buried beneath songs otherwise mistakable for easy vibes. With production like this and a vocalist like her, this could have been a hit even if she sleepwalked the rest. Instead, there's a fragile sense of humanity carrying the song beyond its already amazing-sounding surface. A terrific direction for an artist who has otherwise had trouble getting consistent quality out of her material. Part of what makes it work is that even if it does resemble other artists in that introspection, the very nature of that style will set her apart, and hopefully continue to do so.

Don't get me wrong, I like Milkweed's more common looping soundscapes. I just find something especially affecting about this mode they're in, the one where they sound so far distant that they threaten to be swallowed by radio static. What feels very traditional in structure and performance becomes more like an echo of their peers, one more rooted in desolation and instability.

Don't let the uncanny album cover fool you, there's some ridiculously fun songs under the weird furry sleeve of Quebecer Lou-Adriane Cassidy. This one happens to be my favorite, in particular because it feels like a type of fun we don't have so much of anymore. Short and sweet, but with a lot of electrifying little details that might have fit in well with the early MTV crowd.

This one kinda hurts. The farewell single of Shopping, a trio who I've had a habit of revisiting more often than I thought I would, starts simple establishing moments that become layers to something far more complex. These guys have always managed to needle their melodies into my brain, and the fact that they leave us on one of their best creations is bittersweet. Hopefully the members find a way to scratch that same itch in their various other projects.