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.