2025 Booklist

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Another year, another 50-odd books read. Here are ten new-ish favorites in alphabetical order by author.

Jennifer Finney Boylan, Cleavage: Men, Women and the Space Between Us

One of the few readings I attended this year, Boylan promoted her latest memoir at the Brattle Theater back in February, exuding both passionate defiance against the administration’s anti-trans rhetoric and a cordial goofiness reinforcing the notion that she could’ve just as easily forged a career as a Sedaris-type humorist. Cleavage expertly straddles these poles: another worthy non-fiction addition to her considerable oeuvre.

Mary Haverstick, A Woman I Know

An absorbing deep dive into its subject, Jerrie Cobb, whom documentary filmmaker Haverstick intends to profile as a mid-century female aviation pioneer—that is, until she gradually discovers a more interesting and increasingly disturbing untold backstory. In short, did Cobb have something to do with the JFK assassination? Haverstick’s investigation reads less like a conspiracy theory and more like the nimble assemblage of a 1,000 piece puzzle.

David Levithan with Jens Lekman, Songs For Other People’s Weddings

Novelist Levithan takes inspiration from indie Swedish musician Lekman’s side gig as a wedding singer, crafting a page-turner of a narrative steeped in the latter’s experiences of performing at such rituals while simultaneously dealing with his own fractured love life. Featuring Lekman’s song lyrics (some of which appear on his companion album of the same name), it’s an unconventional collaboration between two artists fully in tune with each other.

Ira Madison III, Pure Innocent Fun

Best known as the (now-former) host of long running pop culture podcast Keep It!, Madison’s affability, enthusiasm and critical eye all fully translate from the microphone to the page in his first book of essays. Like his idol Chuck Klosterman, he’s not afraid to explore idiosyncratic, nerdy subject matter but this collection also doubles as an account of growing up a gay black millennial kid in Milwaukee—a point of view that deeply informs and uplifts his prose.

Haruki Murakami, The City and Its Uncertain Walls

One could argue that Murakami writes the same book over and over; his latest not-quite doorstop of a novel is even a sequel of sorts to his earlier Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. Still, I connected with this more firmly that anything he’s put out since 1Q84, especially once one gets past the establishing first third and into an extended, carefully constructed dreamscape of the kind only this author can pull off.

Susan Orlean, Joyride

For those who never expected master profiler/explorer Orlean to write chiefly about herself, well, neither did she. Happily, her memoir is as candid and searching as her best long-form work with a sharpened focus on how she writes and also why. Just as Charlie Kaufman somehow transformed her book The Orchid Thief into the meta-movie Adaptation, this equally engaging, original text could in the right hands (maybe even Orlean’s own?) make for a film like no other.

Carrie Rickey, A Complicated Passion: The Life and Work of Agnes Varda

I’ve read so many filmmaker biographies over the years; put this slim but bountiful volume high on the shelf next to Mark Harris’ book about Mike Nichols. Veteran film critic Rickey writes about her subject, “The Godmother of the French New Wave” with so much insight and verve that you may want to watch Varda’s entire filmography on The Criterion Channel when you’ve finished the book (as I have begun to.)

Amy Rigby, Girl To Country

Back when I ranked my top ten books each year, this cult singer-songwriter’s first memoir, Girl To City, came in at number one. Its sequel is a fine continuation of her story, picking up shortly after she releases her revered debut solo album, navigates divorce and becomes a Nashville transplant (with her teenage daughter), struggling to integrate herself into a scene and find work and purpose as a middle-aged artist and songwriter for hire.

Gary Shteyngart, Vera, or Faith

Shtyengart’s been releasing one great book after another since his essential 2013 memoir Little Failure. While his new novel is slender in length compared to the past two, its scope remains expansive. Set in an undetermined but not far-off amount of time in the future, it’s a dystopian miniature and a coming-of-age narrative laced with his trademark humor-verging-on-satire. However, the tenderness and grace with which he lends his young title character is the real draw.

Craig Thompson, Ginseng Roots

A belated companion to his generation-defining 2003 graphic memoir Blankets, Thompson returns to his origin as a son of working class, fundamentalist Christian parents in rural Wisconsin. However, this parallel story focuses on their trade as ginseng farmers, surveying in-depth this personal connection and how it extends in concentric circles out towards an international industry. As usual, all of it is rendered in his elaborate visual style informed by cheap comic books, Japanese Manga and a myriad of both low and high art.

My 2025 Booklist (titles in order of when I finished reading them):

  1. Graeme Thomson, Under The Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush
  2. Emily Nussbaum, Cue The Sun!: The Invention of Reality TV
  3. Elizabeth Strout, Tell Me Everything
  4. Shiguehiko Hasumi, Directed By Yasujiro Ozu
  5. Eve Babitz, Slow Days, Fast Company
  6. Jesse David Fox, Comedy Book
  7. Rob Harvilla, 60 Songs That Explain The 90s
  8. Millie De Chirico and Quatoyiah Murry, TCM Underground
  9. Stanley Tucci, What I Ate In One Year
  10. Robert A. Caro, Working
  11. Jennifer Finney Boylan, Cleavage: Men, Women and the Space Between Us
  12. Kelly Bishop, The Third Gilmore Girl
  13. John Le Carre, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold
  14. Tracey Thorn, Naked At The Albert Hall: The Inside Story of Singing*
  15. Ira Madison III, Pure Innocent Fun
  16. Haruki Murakami, Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World
  17. John Irving, The Last Chairlift
  18. Bruce Vilanch, It Seemed Like A Bad Idea At The Time**
  19. Neko Case, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You
  20. Ellen Willis, Out of the Vinyl Deeps*
  21. Steve Turner, Beatles ’66: The Revolutionary Year
  22. Curtis Sittenfeld, Show Don’t Tell: Stories
  23. John Ganz, When The Clock Broke
  24. James Baldwin, Go Tell It On The Mountain
  25. Charles Mingus, Beneath the Underdog
  26. Tom Spanbauer, In the City of Shy Hunters*
  27. Rob Sheffield, Heartbreak Is The National Anthem
  28. Glenn McDonald, You Have Not Yet Heard Your Favorite Song
  29. Ann Patchett, Taft
  30. Leah Kardos, Hounds of Love (33 1/3 series)
  31. Michael Palin, Halfway to Hollywood: Diaries 1980-1988
  32. Geoff Dyer, Homework
  33. Karl Ove Knausgaard, Summer
  34. Kurt Vonnegut, Hocus Pocus
  35. David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas*
  36. Carrie Rickey, A Complicated Passion: The Life and Work of Agnes Varda
  37. Mary Haverstick, A Woman I Know
  38. Elton John, Me
  39. Louise Erdrich, The Night Watchman
  40. Gary Shteyngart, Vera, or Faith
  41. Roger Bennett, (Re)Born In The USA
  42. Tim Robey, Box Office Poison
  43. Barry Sonnenfeld, Best Possible Place, Worst Possible Time
  44. Haruki Murakami, The City and Its Uncertain Walls
  45. Andrew Blauner (ed.), The Peanuts Papers*
  46. David Levithan with Jens Lekman, Songs For Other People’s Weddings
  47. Craig Thompson, Ginseng Roots
  48. Pete Crighton, Cosmic Thing (33 1/3 series)
  49. Paul Meyers, John Candy: A Life In Comedy
  50. Amy Rigby, Girl To Country: A Memoir
  51. Patricia Lockwood, Will There Ever Be Another You?
  52. Mitchell Zuckoff (ed.), Robert Altman: An Oral Biography*
  53. James McBride, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store
  54. Stanley Elkin, The Rabbi of Lud
  55. Jeff Hiller, Actress of a Certain Age**
  56. Susan Orlean, Joyride: A Memoir
  57. Flannery O’Connor, Everything That Rises Must Converge

*Re-read. **Audiobook.

Vince Guaraldi Trio, “A Charlie Brown Christmas”

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Reposting this piece originally written in 2014 in honor of this special’s/soundtrack’s 60th anniversary.

I cannot emphasize enough the impact Peanuts has had on my life. Charles Schulz’s comic strip is as important to me as any of the albums or films I’ve ever written about here. His sense of humor and highly singular yet relatable way of observing the world has resonated with me for as long as I can remember. In childhood, instead of playing with Star Wars figurines or watching Transformers after school, I dutifully collected Peanuts reprint books and watched every half-hour animated television special whenever it aired. Those shows, always preceded by that CBS Special Presentation logo with the thrilling percussive roll and orchestral fanfare, must have been my introduction to Schulz’s work. From an early age, I can recall sitting on the floor with my mom right in front of our TV set, watching the charmingly low-budget animation, hearing the identifiable soundtrack of children’s voices (a rarity at a time when adults providing cartoon character voices was the norm), the muted trumpet standing in for all parents/teachers, and of course, Vince Guaraldi’s jazz score.

In recent years, “Charlie Brown Music” has become one of my favorite phrases to utilize in music criticism because it is so obviously made-up and hyper-specific: if you’ve seen one of the fifteen or so Peanuts specials that Guaraldi scored or have even heard “Linus and Lucy” in isolation, you know exactly what that three-word term implies—mid-century instrumental piano jazz exuding equal amounts childlike whimsy and grown-up melancholy, performed with gentleness but also agility. Although Guaraldi had been recording for nearly a decade and had an actual crossover top 40 hit with “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” three years before, his soundtrack for the first Peanuts special, 1965’s A Charlie Brown Christmas exposed him to a considerably larger audience. From then on, until his death from a heart attack at age 47 in 1976, he was known less for his status as one of his era’s most idiosyncratic and talented West coast jazz pianists and more as the man who created “Charlie Brown Music”—a role he obviously relished, as he spent his final decade working primarily with Peanuts.

A Charlie Brown Christmas received instant critical and public acclaim on its first airing and quickly became a perennial, rerunning on prime-time network TV at least once every year since. Nearly a half-century on, the soundtrack album is just as iconic, although this wasn’t always the case. Released a week before the special first aired, it initially missed the Billboard Album chart (not uncommon for a jazz record.) Over the next twenty-five years, it’s hard to say how well it sold as it was not certified Platinum or Gold during that time. However, after a CD reissue in 1988, it began popping up in more store displays every December. Since 1991, when Billboard started using Soundscan (which relies on computer data to track record sales), the album has sold over five million copies—the tenth best-selling Christmas/holiday album in the U.S. during that time period. In 1992, I bought the album on CD and it immediately became a seasonal listening staple in both my parents’ home and practically everywhere I’ve lived since.

As a soundtrack album, A Charlie Brown Christmas is somewhat peculiar. Whereas the special begins with that beautiful, evocative scene of the kids ice skating to the vocal take of “Christmas Time Is Here”, the album kicks off with “O Tannenbaum”, which doesn’t appear until the special’s second half. Not only does the entire album fail to follow the special’s chronology (“Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” which concludes the special, seems randomly dropped in as track eight), it includes a few selections not heard in the special at all (“My Little Drum”, “The Christmas Song”) and misses some of the stuff actually in it—most notably the lounge-y, upbeat incidental music playing when Charlie Brown frets over Snoopy’s participation in a “lights and display contest” for the latter’s doghouse. Of course, only obsessives and completists worry about such things, but after having heard this album about one hundred times in the last 30-odd years, I can’t help but notice its imperfections.

Fortunately, very little else about A Charlie Brown Christmas is less than perfect. I’d like to think one major reason why it has endured for so long and arguably grown in popularity is that it doesn’t sound like much holiday music that preceded it. Guaraldi was far from the first artist to make a Christmas jazz record—everybody from Louis Prima (the swinging “Shake Hands With Santa Claus”) to Duke Ellington (“Sugar Rum Cherry”, a sly takeoff of a song from The Nutcracker) beat him to it—but his melodic, accessible version of cool jazz proved ideal for capturing a very specific hue of the holiday season. These mostly instrumental songs, with their simple piano-bass-drums arrangements emanate as much comfort and joy as they do wistfulness and poignancy. Depending on your own present state of mind, they have the tendency to shift heavily towards either end of this emotional spectrum. However, Guaraldi has no use for grandiose melodrama: nearly every song here bespeaks understatement and intimacy and collectively, the album provides a balm of sorts to what is for many the most stressful time of year.

A Charlie Brown Christmas has its share of covers of holiday standards, roughly split between swing-trio versions of “O Tannenbaum” and “What Child Is This” and more liberal readings like “My Little Drum”, which modifies the melody of “The Little Drummer Boy”, sets it to a shuffling bossa-nova, and adds in some kiddie onomatopoeic vocals. Guaraldi’s original songs, however, have become the album’s real standards over time. Presented in both instrumental and vocal versions, “Christmas Time Is Here” is nearly as well-known as any carol you can name and possibly the epitome of the album’s equation of the season with a kind of sweet sadness. “Skating” is a lovely little tune where Guaraldi’s descending piano trills mimic gently falling snowflakes, only to follow them with ascending chords before they return and the natural cycle repeats itself. “Christmas Is Coming” has an irresistible, up-tempo momentum to it, right from Guaraldi’s opening rhythmic piano licks to its swing interlude mid-way through.

And then, there’s “Linus and Lucy”, as recognizable from its era as “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” or “Strangers in the Night” and the closest thing Peanuts ever had to a theme song. It’s not a Christmas tune, and it wasn’t even written for this special but for a documentary about Schulz made two years before that never aired. It appears in the special during the rehearsal scenes where most of the cast would rather get down to Guaraldi’s catchy number than prepare for the Charlie Brown-directed Christmas pageant. The song’s instrumental primary melody is an instant earworm while the rumble of the bass melody adds complexity without distracting from the main hook. It alternately rocks, swings and sighs (those elongated chords Guaraldi occasionally throws in) and has no precedent as strictly jazz or pop—it’s a true hybrid, much like the rest of Guaraldi’s “Charlie Brown Music”.

Those interested in exploring more of his work should head directly to The Definitive Vince Guaraldi, a comprehensive two-disc career overview, and Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues, two volumes of music mostly from the early-mid ‘70s specials, revelatory for being unexpectedly funky, and proof that Guaraldi kept pushing himself creatively to the end. Since originally posting this essay, we’ve seen the release of multiple soundtracks from later Guaraldi-scored specials; most essential are It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (1966), A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (1973) and It’s The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown (1974). Still, A Charlie Brown Christmas remains Guaraldi’s most culturally significant achievement: as each holiday season passes, it feels more timeless, ensuring that it will be heard for many Decembers to come.

2025: The Dead Don’t Die

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Since art can be a necessary distraction, I did not take music for granted this year. Although I spent much of its second half listening to 100 previously unheard albums saved to my streaming library, I also kept up with new releases. To encapsulate 2025, I’ve included selections from all of my top ten albums and fifteen honorable mentions plus twenty more that run the gamut from one-offs (Romy’s declaration of free love, veteran Eurodisco producer Cerrone’s energetic collab with Christine and the Queens) to album cuts (Japanese Breakfast conjuring convincing 90s shoegaze vibes, Alison Goldfrapp leading off her second solo album with her fizziest song in at least 15 years) and isolated miracles like Natalie Bergman’s Nancy Sinatra-meets-Shelby Lynne songcraft or Jamie xx sampling/transforming my favorite old discovery of this year, Terry Callier’s beguiling 1972 gem “Dancing Girl” (itself also featured heavily in the film Sentimental Value.)

The average artist age here likely mirrors my own Gen-X soul, which is not to say I was resistant to the Millennial charms of Chappell Roan’s horny take on Shania Twain, Brooke Combe’s dance apocalyptic or Yves Tumor and NINA (of Bar Italia) aesthetically smashing together to create a joyful noise. Still, when someone as established or venerated (or just plain old) as Tunde Adebimpe (of TV On The Radio), Andy Bell (of Erasure) or even ex-Go-Between Robert Forster puts out a first-rate track, I take notice. You don’t have to be an aging music geek to love Wet Leg’s snark-punk and My Morning Jacket’s gleaming Supertramp pastiche (granted, not everyone will); reheated nachos or not, few could deny the monumental, glorious nonsense of “Abracadabra” as an entirely necessary distraction amidst a world coming apart.

You’ve likely heard the Lady Gaga song without even seeking it out, so instead, I’ll highlight a choice cut from the lead singer of Wilco’s 30-track triple album. I almost can’t not like a song for this title alone but I also love how succinctly it sums up the primal allure of rock (or punk or rap or “insert genre here”) without being pretentious about it. In these messy times, we don’t need reverence or pensiveness but raw, loud, unfiltered emotion and release—“I wanna feel everything,” indeed.

2025: The Dead Don’t Die

  1. Brooke Combe, “Dancing At The Edge Of The World”
  2. Wolf Alice, “Wild Horses”
  3. Cut Copy, “Belong To You”
  4. Ivy, “Fragile People”
  5. Stereolab, “Melodie Is A Wound (Edit)”
  6. FKA Twigs, “Girl Feels Good”
  7. Lady Gaga, “Abracadabra”
  8. Romy, “Love Who You Love”
  9. Mekons, “Mudcrawlers”
  10. Perfume Genius, “It’s A Mirror”
  11. Patrick Wolf, “Jupiter”
  12. Jeff Tweedy, “Lou Reed Was My Babysitter”
  13. Bartees Strange, “Sober”
  14. Hatchie, “Sage”
  15. The Weather Station, “Mirror”
  16. Jamie xx, “Dream Night”
  17. Blood Orange, “Mind Loaded”
  18. Destroyer, “Hydroplaning Off The Edge Of The World”
  19. Jens Lekman, “With You I Can Hear My Own Voice”
  20. Japanese Breakfast, “Honey Water”
  21. Saint Etienne, “Glad”
  22. Natalie Bergman, “Gunslinger”
  23. Pulp, “Got To Have Love”
  24. Andy Bell, “Dance For Mercy”
  25. Cate Le Bon, “Mother of Riches”
  26. The Tubs, “Narcissist”
  27. Matt Berninger, “Inland Ocean”
  28. Cerrone & Christine and the Queens, “Catching Feelings”
  29. Maria Somerville, “Stonefly”
  30. Suzanne Vega, “Flying With Angels”
  31. Anna Von Hausswolff, “Struggle With The Beast”
  32. Haim, “Down To Be Wrong”
  33. David Byrne, “What Is The Reason For It?”
  34. Yves Tumor & NINA, “We Don’t Count”
  35. Chappell Roan, “The Giver”
  36. My Morning Jacket, “Everyday Magic”
  37. Wet Leg, “Catch These Fists”
  38. Robert Forster, “Tell It Back To Me”
  39. Yola, “Amazing”
  40. Florence + The Machine, “The Old Religion”
  41. Pearl Charles & Tim Burgess, “Gone So Long”
  42. Tunde Adebimpe, “Somebody New”
  43. Alison Goldfrapp, “Hey Hi Hello”
  44. CMAT, “Euro-Country”
  45. Doves, “Southern Bell”

Top Ten Albums of 2025

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An exceptional year for new music, even if much of what follows are late-career triumphs by long-adored artists. Fortunately, there are two entries from singer-songwriters mostly new to me and another by a young Irish musician who seems poised to take over the world. 

10. Suzanne Vega, Flying With Angels

I’d be shocked if Vega in her mid-sixties scored another surprise hit like “Luka” or “Tom’s Diner” but I also never would’ve guessed that she’d put out her best album in nearly twenty years. It helps that she’s not content to rest on her laurels, essaying new-to-her sounds like jaunty post-punk/new wave (“Rats”) or blue-eyed soul verging on yacht rock (“Love Thief”). Her signature sound is as spirited as ever whether it’s pop (the single “Speakers’ Corner”), folk (interpolating classic Dylan on “Chambermaid”) or something in between (the electric, spare title track.)

9. Florence + The Machine, Everybody Scream

Just I began losing faith in Florence Welch, she came roaring back with her most interesting album in a decade. It may not have a single track as immediate as her best (from “My Love” to the immortal “Dog Days (Are Over)”) but she appears to be playing the long game, retaining an ever palpable drive but locating and cultivating a sharpened focus that has often eluded her. She acknowledges her elder status but makes artful, witty, candid sense of it: “It must be nice to be a man and make boring music because you can,” she quips in “One of the Greats”, and she’s only half-joking.

8. Hatchie, Liquorice

On her third album, this Brisbane-bred musician dives even further into lush, heavily-reverbed and multitracked guitar-centric dream pop influenced by the Cocteau Twins and an array of 90s shoegaze bands (especially The Darling Buds, who split the difference between those two genres most successfully.) Arguably, she already perfected this balance on her effervescent (and to-date, still best) song, 2022’s “Quicksand”.  However, her songwriting and arrangements still feel fresh rather than frozen in amber, their sparkling hooks cascading on by in one breathless, euphoric rush, especially on “Sage”, “Lose It Again” and “Only One Laughing”.

7. Cut Copy, Moments

Like fellow Australian Hatchie, this quartet primarily draws from a distant past—in this case, early 80s synth-pop (vocalist Dan Whitford has always resembled The Human League’s Philip Oakey) but they’ve gradually outgrown coming off a tribute act with pop’s aesthetics across the past few decades slowly melding into a timeless, genre-bending whole. Their latest has some of their catchiest and tightest songs in years (“Belong To You” even manages to fold in some pedal steel!) but it also makes room for experiments like the seven-minute title track which thrillingly transforms midway into a hypnotic, Krautrock (or maybe Kraftwerk?)-derived groove.

6. Blood Orange, Essex Honey

Aware of but not really familiar with Dev Hynes’ long-running musical project, his first release in seven years got my attention with its ultra-specific tone (elegiac 80s British sophisti-pop such as Prefab Sprout and Scritti Politti) and unusual song structures (tracks are often broken up by fragments of seemingly unrelated tunes and melodies.) The likes of Lorde and Caroline Polachek make guest appearances but they’re unflashy and as fully integrated into the sonic textures as samples from The Durutti Column and Ben Watt. It unfolds like a melancholic dream, evoking scattered childhood memories as it processes longing, loss and grief.

5. Jens Lekman, Songs For Other People’s Weddings

Released in tandem with a David Levithan novel of the same title (featuring Lekman’s lyrics), both the book and this album spin a narrative of “J”, a wedding singer-for-hire based on this Swede’s own side hustle (itself running parallel to being one of the more distinct singer-songwriters of his generation.) Clocking in at eighty minutes, this first solo release in eight years is easily his most ambitious to date, alternating trademark orchestral pop with electronic breakbeats and scene-setting interludes, pulling off a ten-minute epic (“Wedding in Leipzig”) as nimbly as he does impeccably conceived short stories in half that time (“A Tuxedo Sewn For Two”).

4. Anna Von Hausswolff, ICONOCLASTS

Another Swedish musician, Von Hausswolff’s gothic, cathartic wall of sound couldn’t be further from Lekman’s wistful reveries, even though her first album in five years is nearly as long (and twice as epic) as his latest. Only fleetingly aware of her past output, I immediately took to these loud, dramatic soundscapes (if only she had had the opportunity to work with the late Jim Steinman!) Kindred spirits Ethel Cain and an ever-warbly Iggy Pop show up but the album’s guest MVP is saxophonist Otis Sandsjö whose melodic riffs and raucous squawks unlock seemingly limitless possibilities in Von Hausswolff’s approach, especially on the slippery, startling, propulsive “Struggle With The Beast”.

3. CMAT, Euro-Country

Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson’s third album is this year’s great leap forward. I could sense it from the delightful videos she put out for its pre-release singles and as a whole, it’s only collectively grown on me over the past few months. One could deem her an Irish Chappell Roan but she’s closer to a Gen-Z Kirsty MacColl—clever, cheeky, impassioned, someone you can’t help but root for. She excels at tunes not only packed with memorable choruses but verses and bridges, too, plus a deeply felt perspective all her own, suffused with carefully considered snark (“The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station”) cunning wordplay (“Janis Joplining”) and eloquent heartbreak (“Lord, Let That Tesla Crash” and the sweeping title track.)

2. Saint Etienne, International

When this venerable British trio announced their 13th album would be their last, it was unexpected and bittersweet (they’re not breaking up per se but rather “drawing a line in the sand” and recording no more.) Unlike nearly all of their previous long players, International doesn’t really push their sound anywhere new, exactly, serving more as an “Oops! All Bangers” victory lap. Still, even without that added sense of finality, these twelve solid songs are both triumphant and poignant from opener/lead single “Glad” (as fresh-faced and euphoric as anything on Too Young To Die: Singles 1990-1995) to the cumulative resolve of closer “The Last Time”. A lovely bow on top of a singular discography.

1. Doves, Constellations For The Lonely

It’s awfully rare, but occasionally, upon first listen, you just know you’ve heard what could potentially become one of your all-time favorite albums. After a long absence, this active-in-the-aughts band returned with 2020’s The Universal Want; five years later, they’ve followed it with an astonishing full-length that almost eerily anticipates the chaos and anxiety of how 2025 would play out (or likely was in the air to begin with.) One of the more cinematic, post-Britpop guitar bands to emerge after Radiohead’s OK Computer, they’ve never lacked for ambition, their power-trio dynamics enhanced by their expansive arrangements. Beginning with the supposedly Mad Max-inspired single “Renegade”, each song matches a solid rhythmic foundation with a sense of awe and reaching for transcendence. Even though vocals are now shared between all three members, lead singer Jimi Goodwin still defines them as does the searching and humaneness in their lyrics (“Be careful of those stupid schemes… never let them fill your mind,” Goodwin tenderly warns.) The momentum flows steadily throughout, expertly building in final track “Southern Bell” as it shifts from a mournful lament to a declaration of purpose in its exhilarating, near-apocalyptic second half.

Favorite Albums of 2025: Honorable Mentions

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It’s likely a coincidence, but years ending in the number 5 have personally proven fruitful for new music as of late. 2025’s no exception and while I considered doing a top 20 albums list, I’m relegating it to a more digestible top 10. First, however, fifteen additional titles that didn’t make this top ten but would still wholeheartedly recommend (in alphabetical order by artist.)

Cate Le Bon, Michelangelo Dying. Fitting that this Welsh weirdo got John Cale, the biggest Welsh weirdo of them all to appear on her seventh album. Perhaps not as fine as her beguiling sixth full-length but she remains so convincingly herself that Cate’s always worth the wait.

FKA Twigs, EUSEXUA. Sticking with the original version of this released in January as the November redo somehow nixes its best song, “Girl Feels Good”. Quirky, surprising, genre-defying—if she still hasn’t made something as galvanizing or definitive as Brat or Ray of Light, she’s getting closer.

Ivy, Traces of You. A post-Adam Schlesinger effort (though it works his demo recordings into every track), my skepticism vanished upon hearing those inimitable “do-do-do’s” from the apparently ageless Dominique Durand on the opener and also some of the near Apartment Life-level stuff that follows.

Jeff Tweedy, Twilight Override. Not yet ready to say this 30-track is the best pop triple LP since 69 Love Songs but Tweedy is nothing if not a consistent songwriter and I’m unable to detect any real throwaways here. The charming, rocking “Lou Reed Was My Babysitter” sports the song title of the year.

Maria Somerville, Luster. In these times, I lean towards gauzy, meditative dream-pop for comfort. This Irish musician’s third album courts the more ethereal side of this genre. It blurs together for sure but you’re not left wanting for hooks, just blissfully immersed in her soundscapes.

Matt Berninger, Get Sunk. Haven’t recently heard The National’s two 2023 albums in full but my gut says this new solo one from its vocalist is better than both since it can’t deny the arresting sonic palette of “Inland Ocean” or solid melodies of “Bonnet of Pins”, “Frozen Orange” and “Little By Little”.

Mekons, Horror. After nearly 50 years together, it’s fair not to expect anything new from these beloved underdogs but they haven’t seemed so assured or impassioned since 2002’s essential OOOH! (Out of Our Heads). As they’re a band only a curmudgeon would hate, more of the wonderful same is most welcome.

Patrick Wolf, Crying The Neck. Only faintly familiar with his past work but others have cited his first album in 14 years a welcome return. It got my attention from its first spin: expansive, timeless baroque pop in the tradition of Rufus Wainwright, Owen Pallett and other queer singer-songwriters, including…

Perfume Genius, Glory. With each album, Mike Hadreas’ ongoing project finds new ways of expressing and developing his worldview, resulting in hard-to-classify songs like “It’s A Mirror” and “Clean Heart”: pop songs, for sure but full of doors leading to other rooms, not dead ends but open and free.

Pulp, More. A reunion album from Jarvis Cocker & co. shouldn’t work, but this cheekily-titled one mostly does. Sounding positively involved and inspired, Cocker has gracefully grown into wizened elder he’s always aspired to be, from bangers (the tremendous “Got to Have Love”) to ballads (“Farmers Market”).

Robert Forster, Strawberries. A scant two years after The Candle and The Flame, Forster forges some new paths here from the title track’s Donovan-esque bubblegum to tender character studies (“Foolish I Know”, about queer (!) longing) and epic prose poems (the Go-Betweens worthy “Breakfast On The Train”.)

Stereolab, Instant Holograms On Metal Film. One of the most unexpected of 2025’s many returns-to-form. Granted, they sound exactly like they did in 2010 (and 1995, for that matter) and it proves more a blessing than a curse as they’re still capable of crafting sublime melodies and incomprehensible song titles.

The Tubs, Cotton Crown. Call it The Tubs Leave Home which is to say, a twinge more refined than their debut and ever-so-slightly more accomplished (Johnny Marr would kill for the erudite lead riff on “Narcissist”.) A substantial effort but I anticipate seeing how their Rocket to Russia will turn out.

Wet Leg, Moisturizer. Rhian and Hester would like you to know that they don’t wish to be one-hit wonders (lead single “Catch These Fists” affirms it) and that they’re possibly in it for the long haul while keeping their irreverence in check on playful confections with titles like “Mangetout” and “Pokemon”.

Wolf Alice, The Clearing. These indie-rocking Brits diving headfirst into lush 70s-inspired AOR was not on my 2025 bingo card, nor was the crisp, catchy “White Horses” which resembles a woodsier B-52’s, of all things. Call it their pop sellout move but also call it for what it is: an uncommonly good one.

Savannah Signs

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On my first trip to Savannah in two decades, I had forgotten about these “Use at Your Own Risk” stairs leading down to River Street (one of many sets of them, by the way.)

However, I remembered this awesome vintage motel sign the moment it came into view after exiting the Talmadge Memorial Bridge.

It’s comforting to see Sylvia the Psychic has endured among all the old and new tourist destinations along River Street.

An Oyster Bar and a Tiki Bar? Both high on my list of places to visit the next time I’m in town.

Broughton Street, downtown’s main shopping thoroughfare is resplendent with cool signage.

The ratio of vintage-to-modern (or made-to-look-vintage) nearly favors the former here.

I appreciate some of the modern signs, particularly the more whimsical ones.

We need to bring back vertical signage, whether it’s genuinely vintage…

…or contemporary but playful in spirit (if you’re in Georgia, you will see peaches.)

Just off Broughton on Whitaker Street, this Korean restaurant fits in aesthetically while also standing out.

Many storefronts along Broughton contain remnants of historic tenants in their tiled floor entrances. In this case, happily, the Globe Shoe Company still occupies this space.

An Album A Day: # 81-100

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Fifth and final round of this music library listening exercise finds solace in bop-jazz, goth, power-pop and weirdos from France, UK and even Bulgaria.

81. George Russell, “New York, N.Y.” (1959): Cool east coast orchestral jazz with peppy spoken interludes from Jon Hendricks, Rodgers’ &Hart’s “Manhattan” fitting in seamlessly alongside the “East Side Medley” (“Autumn In New York/How About You”), ideal for cocktails or strolling through any city.

82. Kendra Smith, “Five Ways of Disappearing” (1995): This surveys the hypnotic drone you’d expect from an ex-Dream Syndicate member so the relatively jaunty stuff (“In Your Head”, “Maggots”) are welcome surprises. Has a bit of that mid-90s CD-era bloat but given her absence since, I’ll take it.

83. Siouxsie and The Banshees, “A Kiss In The Dreamhouse” (1982): They’re more of a singles-than-albums band than even The Cure. This one’s fine but it’s the only place to easily find the great “Fireworks” (as a bonus track) which led off the now deleted singles comp that was my introduction. 

84. The Chills, “Kaleidoscope World” (2016): 24-track version. Early singles comp runs the gamut from DIY postpunk (“Bite”) to lush janglepop (“Doledrums”) and occasional nods to kindred spirits the Soft Boys (“Dream By Dream”) and Go-Betweens (“Pink Frost”). In other words, essential 80’s indie.

85. Bob Dylan, “Rough and Rowdy Ways” (2020): After years of wheezing his way through the standards, he drops this about-face as if to say, “I’m still Dylan, and you’re not.” He does, in fact, contain multitudes & even has something worth saying about JFK. Does he have another one of these in him?

86. Redd Kross, “Redd Kross” (2024): Endearing sloppy, impassioned power pop’s what they’ve always excelled at; a self-titled 18-track edition of it risks being seen as calculated, but whatever, it works to a degree where by the time it reaches “Born Innocent” most listeners should be all grins.

87. Mel Torme, “Mel Torme’s California Suite” (1957): Mel’s in excellent voice here & the whole thing emits a dry-martini cool that renders its earnestness even more palatable. Gets a little snoozy in the second half, perhaps, but I’ll play it whenever I think of Palm Springs & cruising on the PCH.

88. Trio Bulgarka, “Best Of” (2008): They collaborated with Kate Bush & their appearance in Leah Kardos’ 33 1/3 book on Hounds of Love moved me to hear more. The a cappella tracks best display how unique their voices blend but the rest is unobtrusive until going too heavy on synths near the end.

89. Beyonce, “Cowboy Carter” (2024): I long for the restraint of a super-tight single album instead of this CD-length behemoth, but it showcases her range arguably better than “Renaissance” did with inspired covers & at least a half-dozen classic originals (why wasn’t the zippy “Ya Ya” a single?)

90. Gruff Rhys, “The Almond and The Seahorse” (2023): Was expecting a primarily instrumental/orchestral soundtrack (there’s plenty of the former stuff at the end) but the excess of songs w/vocals renders this not far off from yer usual LP from the guy, only flabbier (it’s a soundtrack, after all.)

91. Julie Byrne, “The Greater Wings” (2023): Takes as much strength to sing quietly, like another instrument within the arrangement as it does to be the engine powering the song. She’s understated by nature but never overpowered by the music even if it takes a few spins for the whole to connect.

92. Miles Davis, “A Tribute to Jack Johnson” (1971): More compact, accessible & fun than “Bitches Brew” (which I do love.) I tend to pick rock over jazz given the choice but this suggests one doesn’t need to choose just one. Also liked the snippet of “In A Silent Way” from my most listened to Miles LP.

93. Michel Polnareff, “Polnareff’s” (1971): My kind of weirdo: psychedelia w/out trying to be “trippy”, sudden shifts in tempo, many out-of-nowhere diversions (galloping “…Mais Encore” could’ve been arranged for Tom Jones.) He’s nearly a French Os Mutantes & if that odd combo appeals, jump on this.

94. Marine Girls, “Lazy Ways/Beach Party” (1983/1981): Best known as Tracey Thorn’s pre-EBTG band, their two albums of skeletal DIY pop startle for their effort & ingenuity: amateurish but charming, not linked to a scene, emulating the Ramones’ approach w/out sounding like anyone but themselves. 

95. Mark Hollis, “S/T” (1998): As with the last two Talk Talk LPs, this defies categorization & discourages casual listening; it follows that a solo project would feel even sparer although the quantity of ideas present doesn’t render it minimalist. An inevitable farewell but I wish he’d done more.

96. Ghost of Vroom, “Ghost of Vroom 1” (2021): This Mike Doughty project’s the Soul Coughing equivalent of “Garfield w/out Garfield”. A novelty for longtime fans even if so much of it could’ve come out 30 years ago, though towards the end (“John Jesus Angleton”) it begins transcending such confines.

97. Oranger, “Everyone Says You’re A Lot of Fun” (2023): Twenty years after the great “Shutdown The Sun” (I was assigned to review it for a website), their uber-melodic power-pop’s still intact but less dynamic & driven as if to say, “We can still do this (if not as robustly as we once did.”)

98. The Dandy Warhols, “Odditorium Or Warlords of Mars” (2005): Tailored (Taylor-Taylor-ed?) to appease hardcore fans & repulse everyone else. I’m more a periodic admirer & might’ve hated it 20 years ago, but it’s solid except for the lengthy closer & the one where Courtney emulates Robert Smith.

99. Scritti Politti, “Early” (2005): The process of finding one’s self in their art as compiled juvenilia. Skanking bass, angular guitars, a snatch of glockenspiel and Gartside pre-falsetto vocally resembling a post-punk George Harrison. Fairly rough whereas his later output seems endlessly smooth. 

100. Flat Duo Jets, “Introducing” (1993): Neko Case raved about ‘em  in her memoir, the White Stripes arguably wouldn’t exist w/out ‘em & admittedly, 20 tracks in 40 minutes is pretty punk. I can get with their reverb-heavy garage rockabilly though I prefer it was wilder & much weirder than this.

Top Ten Films: 2005

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Cache

My Top Ten Films of 2005:

  1. Me and You and Everyone We Know
  2. C.R.A.Z.Y.
  3. Cache
  4. Grizzly Man
  5. Linda Linda Linda
  6. A History of Violence
  7. 49 Up
  8. The Squid and The Whale
  9. Brokeback Mountain
  10. Shanghai Dreams

Honorable Mentions: 12 and Holding*, Brothers Of The Head, Eve and The Fire Horse*, L’Enfant (The Child), The Secret Life Of Words, Three Times*, The Wayward Cloud

For My Watchlist: Lady Vengeance, Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man, The New World, Takeshis’, Zizek!

*

I created this series with pre-2000 cinema in mind; since beginning to compile annual lists in real time around the turn of the century, I assumed post-2000 stuff didn’t need revisiting. However, something’s drawing me back to 2005 and it’s not just because of the current anniversary. Two decades ago, my moviegoing was at its peak (125 films seen in theaters!); it was also the first Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) I attended. Among the 16 titles seen there, four of them make my top ten above: Jean-Marc Vallee’s Quebecois coming-of-age chronicle, Michael Haneke’s psychological thriller, Noah Baumbach’s best film until Frances Ha and Wang Xiaoshaui’s own coming of age story: a Cannes Jury Prize winner, the first film I ever saw at TIFF (it set a high bar) and one that’s been difficult to see ever since, not receiving any U.S. distribution. (*Three of my other screenings from that TIFF also make the honorable mentions, all of them relatively obscure today.)

In addition to A History of Violence and Brokeback Mountain (both of which I’d catch later in their theatrical releases days apart; could stand to revisit each of them as their DVDs sit on my shelves), TIFF also screened Linda Linda Linda from Japan, which I would see at the Brattle a little over a year later and revisit at the same theater upon its 20th anniversary re-release last month. One of the all-time best films about being a teenager, its contemplative, day-to-day rhythms are never disingenuous or not relatable, just one moment after another that rewards the viewer’s patience as they gradually add up to an earned triumph.

I watched Grizzly Man at the theater I worked at days before that TIFF; it remains my favorite Herzog film of this century. 49 Up I’d see a year later when it received its U.S. release: one day, I plan on sitting down and watching all the Up films in order (still haven’t seen the last one) but I recall this edition standing out for how it delved deeper into the philosophical implications and psychological effects its subjects experienced by having their lives put on display since childhood.

Just as in 2005, Miranda July’s debut feature remains at the top (I wrote about it extensively here) while C.R.A.Z.Y. (like Shanghai Dreams, it also never got a US theatrical release) is a close second. Since I wrote more about that one here, I’ve chosen to spotlight Cache, which left my friends and I dumbfounded (or at least speechless) after the TIFF screening. Viewing it again two years ago (also at the Brattle!), I noted how Haneke was making movies about White privilege (and guilt) years before it was fashionable. Naturally, there’s more to the film than that—less a puzzle box to solve than another reminder from the director that the past is still present even if we can’t always recognize it as such.

Given the volume of what I’ve viewed from this year, I knew I’d struggle to come up with five unseen titles for my watchlist; honestly, the one I want to see most (Takeshi Kitano’s Takeshis’) is the hardest to find. Somehow, I’ve never gotten around to the Cohen doc despite being a perennial fan or the Park Chan-wook film (although I’ve enjoyed his recent efforts.) The only allure of the Malick film for me is, of course, Malick. As for Zizek!, I should first research whether that or The Pervert’s Guide To Cinema is the best place to begin with the guy.

Glenwood Springs

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One has to pass through Glenwood Springs, Colorado to reach points south like Aspen and Maroon Bells.

A city of just under 10,000 people, Glenwood Springs sits at a crossroads. The Colorado River and I-70 cut through it from east to west, while Highway 82 South leads one into its downtown via an overpass bridge. This was taken from an adjacent pedestrian bridge.

To the west, an expanse of motels, radio towers and nearly monochrome mountainous terrain.

To the east, comparatively much more color and texture. On I-70, one must pass through the thrilling, precarious Glenwood Canyon to arrive here.

The town is mostly renown for the Glenwood Hot Springs which sprawl to the north of the river and interstate. We briefly considered checking them out but they were a little expensive for our taste.

More lush greenery to the east along I-70, but something red stands out to the right.

The town’s historic train station where Amtrak’s California Zephyr line still stops.

Initially, we feared the town itself was nothing more than a tourist trap given its proximity to the Hot Springs.

While ideally positioned to attract out-of-towners like us, the town also has an agreeable laid-back homey vibe nestled within all of its scenic beauty.

Not to mention a little whimsy here and there like this oversized ice cream cone.

Downtown has an excess of vintage architecture; I could’ve spend an entire day walking around taking photos.

Perhaps its other claim to fame (besides the Hot Springs) is that it’s where Doc Holliday died. I’d recently watched Tombstone (featuring Val Kilmer’s justly celebrated performance as Holliday) without knowing I’d end up here just a few months later.

I’m not sure how vintage this Riviera Lounge signage actually is, but I love it regardless.

A few blocks from downtown, I walked through a residential neighborhood on a lovely, warm September afternoon. The sign (and architectural design) of Gene’s Lock & Key immediately caught my eye.

As did this Masonic Lodge down the block, likely appearing exactly as it did 50 or 70 years ago.

One doesn’t see many mid-century structures anymore where I live like this church. Here, it looks picture-postcard perfect against the mountains to the west.

As I strolled through this neighborhood, I increasingly thought what a nice place it would be to live in if I ever grow weary of being in a big city.

There’s something odd but also charming about coming across a house displaying skis and snowshoes along its side exterior.

These strings of dog polaroids in the window at Deja Brew coffeehouse on Highway 82 are nothing but charming.

Downtown sports colorful signs with this slogan all over the place. Between stuff like this, the unexpected number of rainbow flags I saw in assorted businesses and the natural beauty surrounding it all, Glenwood Springs was a gem of a place to spend an afternoon.

An Album A Day: # 61-80

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Round Four includes the usual blend of indie pop, classic jazz and disco camp, plus an album from over 50 years ago that may end up my favorite discovery of 2025.

61. The Felice Brothers, “From Dreams to Dust” (2021): I’ve played the heck out of the sly “Jazz on the Autobahn” but never checked out the rest & it’s strong, nearly an American Weakerthans more influenced by folk than punk. Dry humor & wordplay are also constants from “To-Do List” to “Celebrity X”.

62. Duke Ellington, “The Ellington Suites” (1976): Of the three (rather loosely-themed) suites this collects, The Queen’s Suite (1959), made just for QEII is the warmest and most realized (esp. “The Single Petal of a Rose”); the others, recorded in the 70s are fine but decidedly post-peak Duke.

63. Kid Creole & The Coconuts, “Fresh Fruit In Foreign Places” (1981): I suppose the best 8 (out of 12) songs here are as good as the 8 (out of 8) on their next album even if this is more varied. August Darnell sure pivoted from disco to new wave without diluting his essence or breaking a sweat.

64. Roger Nichols & The Small Circle Of Friends, “S/T” (1968): Always a sucker for late ‘60s sunshine pop so of course I was won over by the first trumpet solo (on track one!) A flop at the time, this studio project has enough nifty hooks and harmonies to render the two Beatles covers superfluous.

65. Jason Falkner, “All Quiet On the Noise Floor” (2009): A Japan-only release, it nearly rivals “Can You Still Feel” (1999), at least until peters out a little near the end. Still, Falkner should be a national treasure for having an identifiable sound and executing it better than anyone else.

66. James Brown, “Soul on Top” (1970): If it’s perverse for him reverting to big-band arrangements while he was made career-defining vamp-heavy funk, note that this came out the year he began work with the JB’s. Being at his peak, the music’s secondary to Brown himself (though it’s still great.)

67. Susanne Sundfor, “Blomi” (2023): Was expecting far less English (after glancing over the song titles) and weirder song structures as well. We know she’s capable of bangers but by continuing withholding them she offers something unexpected and perhaps more novel in a world of Robyn wannabees.

68. Bill Callahan, “Gold Record” (2020): Spotify’s algorithms kept throwing his stuff my way and I see why although he’s more a personality-and-vibes guy than a man with hooks to spare. Rhymes Mel Torme with Kid and Play & that’s clever but his character sketches (“Ry Cooder”) are actually smart.

69. The Czars, “Best Of” (2014): Less goofy & synthy than his solo work, John Grant’s old band’s still defined by his baritone & lyrics. “Killjoy” & “Paint The Moon” might’ve been fluke hits like “Float On” & “Stacy’s Mom” in an alternate universe; all one could ask of this comp is a better title.

70. Thee Headcoats, “The Kids Are All Square, This Is Hip!” (1990): I’ve nothing against & mostly embrace garage punk of all stripes even as I can detect all the obvious influences from Kinks to Cramps. This could use more feminine energy so I’ll have to put Thee Headcoatees in my listening queue.

71. Daniel Rossen, “You Belong There” (2022): Did not realize how much Rossen contributed vocally to Grizzly Bear; isolated, his Garfunkel resemblance is unignorable but Garfunkel rarely had such heady material to sing over. I suspect this requires dedication and patience to unlock its secrets.

72. Madvillain, “Madvillainy” (2004): Sampledelic hip-hop that’s lean & economical (only 3 of 21 tracks exceed 3 minutes) while also exuding a limitless range of ideas & possibilities. Closer to Since I Left You than Operation: Doomsday although a deeper dive down the rabbit hole than either.

73. Silver Convention, “Madhouse” (1976): Christgau designated this “Protest Disco” but it’s not far from “Fly, Robin, Fly” (“Magic Mountain” affably recalls it). Pales a bit compared to Donna Summer’s concept LPs of the time, except when it’s transcendent camp (“Breakfast In Bed”, not a cover).

74. Terry Callier, “What Color Is Love” (1972): Turns out soul-folk is completely my thing (his resembling a male Dionne Warwick at times also helps.) Everything here is a marvel of warmth, grace and urgency, genuine instead of a grand statement and hopefully a portal to similar records/sounds.

75. The Coral, “The Coral” (2002): Only familiar with this decade’s output, their debut’s far rougher than expected, more beholden to primal boogie than the Beatles-esque touches of Super Furry Animals & their ilk. I guess one had to be there for it didn’t register much on this side of the pond.

76. Sofia Kourtesis, “Madres” (2023): Deep into the night at the club, everything’s kicking in, the music’s a bit of a blur but still registers if only as background noise, it only feels secondary yet you can’t imagine it not being there, it adds something vital even if you can’t articulate it.

77. Laurie Anderson, “Amelia” (2024): A typically idiosyncratic spin on Earhart’s story, embodying both the external & internal chaos that has remained her specialty since “O Superman”. ANONHI’s a welcome addition even if relegated to the mix; still prefer Joni Mitchell’s *song* of the same name.

78. Bee Gees, “Odessa” (1969): Long-praised as their pre-disco magnum opus, I was relieved it turned out to be more than lachrymose ballads like single “First of May”. The orchestral stuff conjures up a Beatles trying to top Sgt Pepper’s while a dozen other left turns legitimize their weirdness.

79. Matt Berry, “Gather Up (Ten Years On Acid Jazz)” (2021): He’d be better known for his music if he sang as well as he spoke but at least he doesn’t half-ass it (as L. Cravensworth might remark.) A magpie devoted to post-Beatles, pre-Nirvana pop & this comp’s enough to make me want to hear more.

80. AHI, “The Light Behind The Sun” (2025): If his rousing 2021 single “Danger” was reminiscent of prime Seal, this is closer to the later, adult-contemporary version: tasteful, understated & sadly, bland. The simple song titles also don’t help distinguish this pleasant but unmemorable product.