Patrick Wolf

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.

Last month, I looked over my Spotify library and found hundreds of albums I’ve saved but haven’t listened to. Thus, in an attempt to post more on Bluesky, I’ve begun a version of the Music Writers’ Exercise (#mwe) that I used to participate in on the Social Media Site That Shall Not Be Named, listening to 100 albums and posting a small paragraph about each of them. Here are the first twenty which hopefully give a sense of all kinds of music I’m drawn to. Best discoveries include two albums released this year, one from over 30 years ago and another I’ve been meaning to check out since reading about it in Tim Blanchard’s book Like Magic In The Streets.

1. Malcolm Middleton, “Into The Woods” (2005): From this title & cover, was expecting something more pastoral (suppose “Monday Night Nothing” nearly fits the bill). Has a “better” (if less distinct) voice than his Arab Strap bandmate Aidan Moffat although his brogue’s nearly as robust.

2. Tony Bennett, “Hometown, My Town” (1956): Just as silent cinema’s artistry peaked near the advent of sound, the Great American Songbook was never more expansive than at Rock’s dawn. Tapers off near the end but begins strongly with the melancholy, searching “The Skyscraper Blues”.

3. Michael Hurley, et al. “Have Moicy!” (1976): Once acclimated to Stampfel’s vocal style (did he sing the 70s Armour Hot Dog jingle?), I much enjoyed this goofy, sincere, more-than-a-jam session amongst some folk revivalists (and it’s where Yo La Tengo got “Griselda” from to boot.)

4. Lou Christie, “I’m Gonna Make You Mine” (1969): Title track’s ebullient bubblegum is almost as snappy as the same year’s “Sugar Sugar”; most of the rest is better than filler with “It’ll Take Time” and “She Sold Me Magic” lost gems. RIP to a great American weirdo pop singer.

5. SPRINTS, “Letter to Self” (2024): Karla Chubb’s vocal resemblance to Pylon’s Vanessa Briscoe Hay got my attention but this Irish band’s more-melodic-than-abrasive punk (rather than Pylon’s post-punk) is winning in drive and dynamic even if they could ease up on the minor-key tunes.

6. The Pale Fountains, “Pacific Street” (1983): The Clientele of their time? More obscure than The Go-Betweens at any rate. Swelling strings and trumpet fanfares enliven brisk strums and yearning vocals with all of these components arrestingly coalescing in closer “Thank You”.

7. Nina Simone, “Emergency Ward!” (1972): Eighteen minutes of “My Sweet Lord”, eleven of “Isn’t It A Pity” both are as different as could be from Harrison’s originals and Simone’s genius is to make them effortlessly transcendent with aid of gospel choir and her own piano, respectively.

8. Si Zentner, “The Swingin’ Eye” (1960): Nothing could possibly live up to that LP cover but it swings harder than Glenn Miller (if not Louis Prima). With muted trumpets, nimble piano solos and occasional brass blasts, it’s pleasant but Esquivel’s more my speed for this kind of thing.

9. Rachel Chinouriri, “What A Devastating Turn of Events” (2024): Her Gen-Z indie pop’s not dissimilar from beabadoobee’s (or early Corinne Bailey Rae), but indelible hooks (the whistling on “It Is What It Is”) and caustic humor (“Dumb Bitch Juice”) both separate her from the pack.

10. Luther Vandross, “Never Too Much” (1981): More familiar with his later crossover era, this is an impressive debut even beyond the title track & celebrated Bacharach cover. In one word, effervescent: a major talent with infectious ease to spare like a dream come true (his and ours).

11. Patrick Wolf, “Crying The Neck” (2025): Another triumphant return in an abundant year for them: sumptuous, intricate but never fussy or labored, a layered, dense canvas inviting one to expend time and effort exploring it, promising discovery and even some instant gratification.

12. The Beach Boys, “Surf’s Up” (1971): I appreciate their ambitious, eccentric stuff (esp. the title track) for how it slyly anticipates even weirder homages to come (hi, The High Llamas!) Still relatively accessible & presumably not a bad place to dip a toe in for this period.

13. Dennis Parker, “Like An Eagle” (1979): The suitably soaring, impeccably strung out title song comes from the dudes responsible for the Village People, & it’s far less camp than “YMCA” or even ABBA’s own “Eagle”; sadly, the rest is Broadway-ready disco cheese for diehards only.

14. Nellie McKay, “Bagatelles” (2019): Finally reconciling her transition from subversive songwriter to expert interpreter, this is an ideal way for her to practice the latter: 17 minutes, 8 standards, stripped down to voice & ukelele, coasting on skill and charm; it’s enough.

15. The KLF, “Come Down Dawn” (2021): Reissue/revision of 1990’s “Chill Out”, an aural travelogue of found sounds, overheard conversations, stray beats, etc. Removed from its initial cultural impact, it’s pleasant rather than stimulating though repeated plays might reveal otherwise.

16. Faust, “Faust IV” (1973): No wonder the 11-minute “Krautrock” named a genre: hypnotic without ever becoming inert, with a droning simplicity easy to emulate but more difficult to replicate. The rest I probably could not do justice to after a single listen; it’s all over the place.

17. Giorgio Moroder, “From Here To Eternity” (1977): I suspect this got tons of airplay in sleazy gay discos, particularly side one’s suite. Benefits from its brevity & deadpan humor though the production often feels like a working draft for Sparks’ “No. 1 In Heaven” two years later.

18. The High Llamas, “Gideon Gaye” (1994): LP #2 an ideal place to start, at least compared to other, denser efforts of theirs. Actual pop (or “pop”) songs sit aside wistful instrumentals and diversions (14-minute “Track Goes By”), O’Hagan exuding confidence in forging his own world.

19. Stereolab, “Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements” (1993): After this year’s stunning return, going back to the early albums I missed. Almost shocking hearing so much guitar here, though their bossa-nova diversion agreeably sits aside all of the drone/groove set pieces.

20. Barbra Streisand, “Guilty” (1980): My folks had the vinyl (all of Babs’ LPs from that era, actually) but I didn’t know anything beyond the hits. 4th single “Promises” might’ve been massive had it come out earlier; ballads are meh but Barry’s guidance & ambition are a good fit.

Haunted Jukebox

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