Something really strange happened to me this year.

At the end of 2024, I found myself intensely interested in completing some type of media consumption goal. Something like:

I’m here to tell you…I didn’t do any of those. (That’s not the strange part.)

(And, to be fair, I did get close on the book goal!)

The strange part is what I accomplished without realizing it.

Midway through the year, I started talking with my friends and partner more about music. I was in a Music League at work. which led to me listening more to music throughout the day. I introduced some of my friends to the app, and that led me to listening to even more disparate music. I also started talking more about music more. Conversations with loved ones, posting online, seeking out recommendations—I got more actively engaged in seeking out new music to listen to.

Once the year end “wrapped” (ugh) rolled in, I learned I’d listened to 156 different albums this year (that number has sense grown to around175). That might not actually be that many, but it felt pretty impressive to me. And it got me to realize: I accomplished something I hadn’t set out to do in listening to so many albums front to back.

Ok, so maybe stumbling onto an achievement isn’t that strange, but it’s something I was a bit shocked by, even though I shouldn’t be.

I don’t really do playlists. If I come across a new artist, I’ll usually find an album or an EP rather than just checking out their top tracks. Many of my favorite artists approach composing an album as a whole piece of art, not just composing singles individually, and I tend to appreciate their albums, and albums as a whole, much more because of this.

And so, as a means of growth and a way to reward myself for accidentally accomplishing something, I wanted to challenge myself to reflect on and write about my favorite albums this year, really honing in on what felt special about each.

A bit about my…we’ll call it methodology, even though there’s not much scientific about it:

First, I kept track of any album I listened to that was released in 2025. Around October, I decided I wanted to set myself to this task, and I started seeking out albums that hadn’t come across my path already. I did not listen to every new album this year. I stuck to genres I really liked or artists I was familiar with. So unfortunately, in spite of how good it may be, I’m not ranking Life of a Showgirl because I just didn’t really listen to it that much. (Or at all.)

In November, I started compiling my favorites. I had a list of about 25 that I ended up whittled down to 17 over time. Eventually, I landed on a top 10 and a handful of honorable mentions.

Then, and this is the most scientific part…I just friggin’ jammed out, baby.

I think I’ve listened to every album I was considering for this list 15-20 times in the months of November and December alone. Admittedly, my top 3 were locked in pretty early on, so it was really spots 4-10 that were up for grabs. I didn’t track every single movement, but I can tell you the shape this list has taken is very different from where it started.

One final, very important part of the methodology: It’s just what I felt in my gut? I did a lot of comparative listening—putting two albums vying for a spot up against each other and, if one moved up or down, repeating the process wherever the tracks landed.

Once the list felt “locked in,” I started at the bottom and worked my way to the top. If something moved up or down, I started over.

But there’s no musical theory, no magic formula I was using to determine what moved, what didn’t, and how I felt. I just did what felt right to me because, ultimately as the title suggests, this is just a list of my favorite albums of the year.

As I write all this out, I realize how over the top this sounds. It sounds obsessive and weird. I know that. But here’s the thing: I don’t care. I had a really good time making this list and, honestly, listening to some of the best music released this year over and over again (and over and over again) was soul soothing.

And that’s the last thing I want to mention before I get into the list: I lost a lot of this over the years. In my late teens, discovering new music, either through live shows or recommendations, was something I found solace in. Along the way, that slowly slipped away.

In my early adulthood, I dealt with a lot of trauma, depression, and anxiety. I stopped branching out, and settled into a couple of artists that met my body’s natural listening rhythms (both topics I want to write about in the future), and crept into what I thought was a safe place.

But it wasn’t. I boxed myself in, and for a time, I didn’t get the same pleasure out of music I did in my youth. It’s only function was comfort and safety, which is never the sole purpose of art.

This year, I found myself…happy.

It was far from a perfect year. I still dealt with strife, frustration, and depressive episodes, but damn if something didn’t open up and allow me to enjoy music discovery again. I loved getting music recommendations, talking about music with friends, and sharing my heavy rotation at any given time.

I felt free to enjoy new music again.

If nothing else, this is an extension of those activities, and putting to words my feelings about the music that made my year.

Anyway, onto the list!

Three of my favorite punk and pop punk albums this year, my introduction to King Gizzard, and a rising RVA talent are just a few of my favorite albums that didn’t make the list. Some of these made my top ten initially, but were bumped down for various reasons. Don’t get me wrong, these are all still great listens, but as the list got built they didn’t make the cut.

I do want to specifically call attention to TORTURETWINN’s Blood Love. Had this album dropped earlier in the year and I had more time with it, I could see it being on the list. This album is cool as hell, absolutely oozing with gothy new wave, post-punk that I adore.

I'll be honest, I haven't listened to much AFI post Decemberunderground simply because the direction of that album wasn't for me and, I bounced. Silver Bleeds the Black Sun is such a new direction, and a refreshing one, that it was so wild to jump into. This album feels like it was ripped from a different era. If you let someone listen to this with no knowledge of AFI and told them it was written 40+ years ago, they would have no reason to not believe you.

This poppy, dark goth-rock album was such a departure from what I was expecting, but feels like the perfect direction for the group to head in.

While The Bestiary doesn’t quite match their debut album in sheer unexpectedness, it’s a solid second outing. And it shows the band's growth in the niche they've created for themselves—high concept, sludgy, medieval doom metal.

(If that description doesn’t interest you, I don't think anything will.)

The Bestiary plays it really safe and feels more like an exploration of their existing sound rather than searching for something new. While that might sound like a criticism, it’s anything but. There are a couple albums on this list where artists have taken experimental or entirely new directions, so it's refreshing to hear a group dig their heels in on their niche and really own the sound they've created.

The Bestiary also benefits from higher production quality and better mixing than Into The Realm. Riley Pinkerton's vocals are really able to shine this time around. She flexes her range on Crystal Cave, one of the best tracks on the album. Slow acoustic strumming builds as Pinkerton spins an alluring tale that builds to a crescendo, leading to an atmospheric bridge spelling danger for the magic wielding subject.

I know it's cliche and not at all descriptive to describe a band as “fun” but...goddamn are Castle Rat a blast to listen to. If you've not boarded the Castle Rat hype carriage yet, now's the time. The Bestiary is an extremely successful sophomore outing, and it's left me wanting more.

Psychonaut is a new-to-me-group this year, and I’m kind of shocked I hadn’t run into them previously. Blending post-metal and psychedelic elements with sweeping and complex compositions, they occupy a similar sonic footprint as Haken, Tesseract, and The Contortionist. It’s an impressive group to be compared to, and they’re all bands I listen to regularly. But that end of the progressive metal spectrum is, admittedly, one that can be hit or miss for me. I sometimes find that post, psychedelic, and slower prog metal bands get a little too far afield in their song structure, losing the listener in an attempt to be either experimental, robust or, honestly, just a bit too ambient.

With World Maker, Psychonaut managed to create an album that avoids each of those personal pitfalls, and it feels equal parts meditative and wide-reaching—truly sprawling at times—while still managing to be absolutely laser-focused throughout.

From the jump, World Maker takes your hand, sets the scene, and never lets go. That's what stood out to me about this album, and honestly almost landed it higher on my list. It’s beautifully constructed, with not just every song feeling meticulously placed, but every moment in every track feels like it belongs exactly where it is.

One of my favorite tracks, “And You Came with Searing Light,” starts as a mellow, post-rock song that builds slowly and with all the intentionality of a guided missile into something bombastic, large, and heavy as hell.

And “Origins,” probably one of the most inventive songs of the year, breaks the album apart, offering a hypnotic, rhythmic percussion to start, leading to the trance-inducing vocals of guest anthe, followed by what becomes one of the heavier closings and most prog leaning moments of the album.

If you listen to no other songs from the album, do yourself a favor and check out “Origins.” It’s a marvel of a track, and unlike anything I've heard before. Honestly, it was this track that made me find a place for them on this year end list. Check it out and then be prepared to be hooked on one of the most inventive albums this year

I was born just outside of D.C. and spent so much time with family in the area when I was younger, so I’ve always kind of had a soft spot for artists from the DMV. I’ve followed Wale for a long time, but everything is a lot is the first full album that really hit home for me.

There’s so much to appreciate on this album. It meditates on dealing with mental health today, the commentary beginning with the album’s title that carries a single strand throughout every song—everything is a lot.

That refrain—a struggle to express yourself fully, a seemingly non-descript statement about the state of things as the world feels too overwhelming, too crushing, too depressing to deal with challenges one by one as they come—brings a personal but extremely approachable sensibility to each track.

“Conundrum” kicks off the album focusing on love, loss, futile hopes, and a final begrudging acceptance that finds Wale in a daydream like state by the end of the track. With “Belly,” the following track, both he and the listener are snapped back to the here and now, back to reality with a sample of Soul II Soul’s “Back to Life,” forcing a rumination on the crushing reality of everyday pressures in “the belly of the beast.”

“Belly” is one of the standout tracks on this album, and it continues the thread of Wale trying—and struggling—to express each feeling he’s dealing with:

I could go on and on about this album, with each of the eighteen tracks offering something different, but never dropping that singular thread of how to express that everything really is a lot.

Musical discovery was a theme of mine this year. The two Music Leagues I participated in and conversations with close friends about music led me to find songs and albums I would have otherwise missed. I have to give a shout-out to my friend Doug (ickybooley.bsky.social on Bluesky) for his reminding me of Thrice. I don’t remember how the topic came up—he and I talked quite a bit about music this year, and I’m really truly grateful for those conversations—but at some point he had recommended listening back to their discography. I saw they had a new album on the horizon and made it a point to check it out when it dropped.

I’m glad I did. Horizons/West is one of my most listened to front-to-back albums this year, and at various points, this was a contender for top three. A follow-up to their 2021 release, Horizons/East, Horizons/West doesn’t just continue a trajectory set forth in that album, it perfects it. It’s soulful and beautifully conceived, giving listeners so many different, yet somehow fully cohesive, moments to appreciate.

From “Gnash,” a song that lulls you into thinking you’re in for a groovy, pop-rock adjacent anthem only to morph into something wholly different, offering up one of the heavier moments on the entire album. The song’s construction amplifies the anxious metaphor set forth in the lyrics:

“Albatross” swoops in and gives listeners the true earworm of the album, a song that will burrow deep into your memory, sneaking out unexpectedly for days after you hear it.

“Undertow” slows the album at just the right time, offering up percussive beats to lull the listener into a relaxed state, leading to a hopeful, yet foreboding chorus informing the listener that we’re “miles away from the dreaded undertow.” The fullness of Dustin Kensrue’s deep, breathy lyrics never let you forget that feeling of relaxation—until the dark bridge arrives and pulls you under. “Undertow” is such a fantastic, metaphoric song in practice and writing. He, the still calm inviting water on the surface, the rest of the band the unseen, sinister pull of an undercurrent you never saw coming. It’s a beautifully constructed song and one that begs for a headphone listen.

“Holding On” anchors the band to some of the more genre defining elements of their earlier post-hardcore albums, reminding listeners of songs like “The Abolition of Man” and “The Weight.” In it’s recollection, it highlights a truth about the album as a whole—Horizons/West is more mature, but it hasn’t fully abandoned or forgetten the emotional, post-hardcore elements present during the band’s rise in the mid-aughts, a rise that had had you and your friends singing along to every word at every Warped Tour they played.

When I set out to write about each of my favorite albums this year, I intended to just write a few words about “the vibe.” For better or worse, I abandoned that plan, and now, a couple thousand words deep, I have to be honest and admit: I don’t really know how to write about this album.

Post-rock is just not something I’m familiar with describing. I know how I feel when I listen to it, but those feelings are kind of ethereal. I’m not really sure how to pen them.

To add to my plight: I never really listened to much Mogwai before this year. So comparative analysis isn’t really an option.

What I can say is: This album started as an honorable mention, but the more I listened, the higher it kept climbing. Even though post-rock isn't one of my main genres, The Bad Fire really tickled my brain in all the right ways. There's so much to appreciate and so many sounds, sometimes dissonant from one another, but always, ultimately, harmonious in composition.

I’ll finish this review with my initial “album vibe”

It’s dark, winter and I crave warmth. My astigmatism is fucking me up on my drives home during daylight savings time, I just want to sit on the couch, pop an edible, watch YouTube videos and zone out.

That’s about the best I can do. Just give it a listen, you won’t be disappointed.

Between the dense layers of Florence Welch’s own personal experience and the historical contextualization of witches, the occult, and the power in femininity, wrapped and bound tightly within metaphor and a dark, deeply personal prose sits Everybody Screams.

From a purely sonic production level, the album nails every chance it takes. Rhythmic and sometimes chaotic chanting and cheering in the confident opening track, “Everybody Scream,” lays bare the strands that weave through the entire album—the dizzying reality that performing and the act of creating art is both healing and rending at the very same moment; the misogyny in the music industry towards femme performers; the catharsis in both performing and screaming, the latter an act deeply associated with pain, suffering, and distress.

There’s so much to take in here, with track after track tugging at those threads in different ways, each staying rooted in some level of witchy, soft gothic tones.

The dark synth and chimes work together in perfect disharmony to kick off “Drink Deep”, a track lead by Welch's incredible vocals. She tops herself so often in this album, giving emotional performances that span from quiet and smoldering to bombastic, loud, and powerful.

A lot has been written about this album by folks way better at analyzing music than me, so I won’t dig quite as deeply into every track on this one and end with my final thoughts:

This album is a triumph. At its core, Everybody Scream is about healing through expression, giving of yourself fully so that you may find and create a place and practice where you can scream as loud as you need, become your full size, and the very power in that actualization. And while each song relies heavily on Welch’s own experiences, the theme of power in collective and community, highlighted by the the varied collaborations that allowed the album’s creation, isn’t obscured by the personal. On the contrary, the album invites listeners from the very beginning to sing along—and scream—to heal yourself all the while.

This album is very hard for me to look at critically. Between the Buried and Me (BtBAM) is one of my favorite groups of all time. It's rare that I go more than a month without listening to one of their albums, usually multiple times, and sometimes followed by the rest of their discography. They make music that connects deeply with my listening rhythms on a level that I can’t really explain other than to just say—the dudes rip.

The album has so many songs I’d rate as nearly perfect, each offering something different, experimental, but maintaining that patented BtBAM sound.

“Things We Tell Ourselves in the Dark” is the perfect opener and tone-setter for the album. It comes in heavy and weird, with an 80s-style synth, Tommy absolutely nailing the vocals, and Dan laying down one of the grooviest bass lines written this year.

Track 2, “God Terror,” offers the first of several leaps and stylistic departures with the band leaning into an industrial metal sound that I’ve not heard from them in the past. It’s jarring, and I wasn’t a fan at first, but the more I listened to the album as a whole, the more I’ve come to appreciate “God Terror” for the heavy experiment that it is.

I’m on record saying “Absent Thereafter” might be the most tightly composed track the boys have ever written. I truly think this is one of their best songs, period. And that’s saying something because there are whole sections that are country, bluegrass, and even rockabilly inspired. It's heavy, approachable, and vacillates from bone-crushing to jaunty-ass tune that’s just so goddamn fun to experience. It’s been in consideration for my favorite track of the year since I first heard it.

“Psychomanteum,” which kicks off the back quarter of the album and arguably the best stretch, starts off with a bang and doesn't relent in the first half. Heavy keys at spots, a catchy chorus, and a slowdown around the 4-minute mark when you really need it. This one's for the long-time fans, reminding me of some of my favorite moments from Parallax II and even The Great Misdirect.

I adore the final stretch of most BtBAM albums, and The Blue Nowhere is no exception. “Slow Paranoia” brings the heat only for “The Blue Nowhere” to cool things off. The title track and arguably the most accessible songs on the album, is one of the best and that’s saying something considering it offers no screams or growls at all.

To close out the standard version of the album is “Beautifully Human,” my favorite track on the entire album. I don't know what to say about it. Maybe it's because I've been listening to these guys for the better part of two decades, maybe it's because the world is hard to deal with at times, but this song feels so...healing. They have yet to release an ending to an album that isn't an all-time classic and they didn't start with The Blue Nowhere. “Beautifully Human” is fantastic, and it's features everything that makes a good BtBAM album closer.

“It's Human Is Hell (Another One with Love)” good. It's “Silent Flight Parameter” good. Honestly? It might even be “White Walls” and “Swim to the Moon” good. It wraps the album up perfectly, leaving us to contemplate the nature of humanity, happiness, and our own short existence.

I can't get over how good this album is when it hits. When it’s good, it’s great.

What does it say about me, or maybe even the state of the world, that two of my favorite albums this year referenced Philip K. Dick's famous 1977 Metz Speech?

Who knows. But it had to get weird in my top 3, y’all.

If you’re not listening to The Callous Daoboys, now’s the time to rectify that. They’ve quickly rocketed to the top of my favorite bands list since I saw them live two years ago during Protest the Hero's “Halloween is for Always” tour, and I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven is arguably their most approachable album to date. And considering the album begins and ends with a strange-in-concept, great-in-execution “Museum of Failure” bit, that’s saying something.

Their compositions have always been equal parts chaotic and melodic, and I Don't Want to See You In Heaven feels like a natural progression for the group in that regard, veering into songs that, while still carrying their signature sound, are as catchy as any pop song released this year.

Case in point: “Lemon.” Arguably the standout track of the album, it’s mesmerizing, rhythmic, catchy, and barely hints at the band’s dense and often absurd mathcore roots. Instead, it’s an almost danceable, emotional, poppy rock track with electronic flourishes throughout. It's become my favorite way to introduce people to the band who would otherwise have no interest in listening.

“Body Horror for Birds” follows “Lemon,” and features LA based alternative R&B artist 1ST VOWS in a soulful-yet-distressing ambient track that allows vocalist Carson “Big Animal” Pace to really shine…before dropping the listener into one of the heaviest tracks of the album in “The Demon of Unreality Limping Like a Dog.”

Like every album they’ve released, it features moments of levity, like Carson beginning “Idiot Temptation Force” off with a chant inspired by how his grandfather used to answer the phone–Ugga-ugga-boo, ugga-boo-boo-ugga—interspersed with their signature dense lyrics:

I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven is an incredible album, showing that the band can grow without losing their originality and sound. Really can’t want to see what they do next.

Keep It Quiet was my most anticipated album after The Blue Nowhere. It blew my expectations out of the water. I cannot accurately express how good this album is. It’s raw. It’s energetic. While there’s no doubt in my mind they’ll continue to improve, Keep It Quiet, for now, is Greyhaven at their absolute best.

From catchy metalcore anthems like “Shatter and Burst” and “Burn A Miracle” that compel you to sing along, to more experimental tracks like the steel-guitar fronted “Technicolor Blues” absolutely oozing charisma and charm, Keep It Quiet has so much to offer new and old fans alike.

So much of this year’s list has been great musicians making albums that are deeply personal, and Keep it Quiet is no exception. Interwoven with the band’s rise is their upbringing and vocalist Brent Mills’ health, detailed in a profile in Revolver Mag from way back in 2018. In it, Mills discusses the struggles of the opioid epidemic in their hometown in Kentucky, his open heart surgery at the age of 23, and how, because of all the singing, crooning, and screaming he does on stage, there was, at least for a time, a very real fear that he could end up hospitalized after a show:

Brent Mills might be my favorite band leader in metal right now. He’s an incredible vocalist, moving deftly from melodic melodies to screaming harsh screams. Plus…he just seems like a good dude.

I had the pleasure of seeing them in Richmond this year on a tour they headlined, I believe for the first time, and he seemed to be absolutely reveling in every moment of the show. From watching the opening acts in the crowd and even joining on stage to sing along with Thin The Heard to hanging back after the show to shake hands, fist bump, and chat with fans from the stage, you could just feel, throughout the performance and the graciousness he showed before and after, the love he has for this band, performing, and the fans.

As for Keep It Quiet, there’s not a skippable track on this album. No single note feels out of place, and every song is pitch perfect, bringing the exact right amount of energy and needed.

I’ve listened to Keep It Quiet more times than I can count. It may end up as one of my favorite albums of all time because it’s a band flawlessly executing on their vision. Not much else to really say about it. It’s near perfect, in my opinion.

Well, that’s it. Those are my favorite albums of 2025. Anything I missed? Let me know here or on Bluesky. I’m awkwardcomma.bsky.social.

I love checking out new music so if you have some recommendations, drop a comment here or on Bluesky.