The music that helped me through 2025

Good god. What even is there to say, man? On the precipice of another year closer to the inevitable collapse of society, here I am (once again, falling to pieces) with the one obligation to strangers on the Internet I insist on honoring — a list of my favourite fifteen songs of the year. While I don’t quite think this year’s selection can live up to the sheer quality of last year’s favourites, there is still a lot to love here, and I deliberately haven’t included much from artists I’ve already talked about at length, since my goal as always is to actually broaden my readers’ horizons.

Otherwise, are there any musical trends to speak of? Any partiular quirk of 2025’s musical output that will allow us to pinpoint this specific time in history years from now? Not particularly. There is a noticeable number of songs and artists with names in all-caps on the list this year, that is something, but then again, I’ve been wanting to do nothing but scream for years now, so make of that what you want. If anything, this lists proves that there aren’t really any major musical trends anymore. No specific genre is truly capturing the culture, nor is any scene noticeably “dead”. Heck, there are even some rock songs on this list! With, like, guitars and stuff! The more things change, the more they stay the same, but if that means we get to enjoy the same diversity that we got this year, I’m all for it.

So, without any further ado, let’s count down to 2026 with the greatest songs of 2025!

Ão – “Talvez”

It’s nice to be blindsided once in a while and learn about new music the way normal people do: by watching television. Following their stunning live orchestral performance on Belgian public television, I’ve become a fan of this foursome mixing indie beats and vocal manipulations with distinctly Iberian instrumentations and a healthy dose of saudade aesthetics. The mysterious, high-pitched sounds in the distance of the production give “Talvez” (Portuguese for “maybe”) a similar untamed vibe to Crístobal Tapia de Veer’s critically acclaimed score for the HBO series The White Lotus, and Ão similarly blend familiar modern sensibilities with an exotic touch that is as warm as it is unsettling.

Black Country, New Road – “Happy Birthday”

Black Country, New Road are a very different band now that Isaac Wood has stepped down from his role as frontman. Gone are the dissonance, unease and the sense of urgency Wood brought to his performances, which in turn brings to the forefront the other members’ talents and proclivities. The result is music that sounds far more like collective catharsis than an anguished scream of a single troubled individual. It is opulent, even saccharine at times, but just as genuine in its celebration of the members’ friendship as Wood’s confessional lyrics used to be. What “Happy Birthday” may lack in rawness, it more than makes up for in terms of melodic charm, as its veneer of manufactured quirkiness quickly gives way to a profound understanding of the joys of making music together.

Deftones – “milk of the madonna”

Deftones have been one of the most consistently excellent bands of the 21st century, never failing to attract new audiences by constantly iterating on their unique sound in interesting ways and sparking a resurgence about as often as guitarist Stephen Carpenter conceives of a new way to add an extra string to his guitar. No other band balances heavy riffs and atmospheric artistry as well as these guys do, as rather than seeking a resolution or compromise to this eternal tug-of-war, they try to push each facet of their existence to even further extremes. Tracks like “milk of the madonna”, an uppercut of religious extasy, lend a poetic legitimacy to chugging guitars, making Deftones one of the few bands whose relevance has managed to survive both the nineties and a short stint as the hot new thing on TikTok.

Geese – “Taxes”

If you are somehow lucky enough to not have a friend who refuses to shut the fuck up about this hot new band Geese, allow me to be your friend who refuses to shut the fuck up about this hot new band Geese. What do you mean, he sounds like Thom Yorke with a nasty cold? That’s the point!

Hayley Williams – “Mirtazapine”

In the ever-changing modern music landscape, the fact that the artist who made the theme song to the first Twilight movie has a career that’s still going strong, is nothing short of a miracle. Then again, most artists are not Hayley Williams, who has consistently channeled the several decades of crap she’s had to deal with — from bad contracts with predatory record labels to fallings-out with bandmates turned to religious zealotry — into accessible, yet emotionally honest songs. Williams’ music never pushes the envelope, but steadily pays homage to her inspirations, both historical and contemporary, cementing her as a musical shapeshifter constantly tuned in to the reasons why people listen to music without losing her own identity in the process.

KNEECAP (ft. Mozey) – “The Recap”

For one glorious(ly stupid) month, a Northern Irish trio whose material can best by described as “Gaelic gangsta rap set to bumper car music” were the biggest band in the world. Following a tenuous terrorism lawsuit against one of the band’s emcees, the establishment, always looking for pearls to clutch, declared a holy war on KNEECAP, leading to the BBC refusing to air their performance at the UK’s biggest music festival, the Prime Minister denouncing their very existence and both Hungary and Canada banning them from setting foot on their territory for the forseeable future.

It reads as a tale as old as time — conservative (and centrist) forces deliberately take the exaggerated and provocative language of hip-hop at face value as an excuse to censor speech they don’t like. After all, why talk about your ongoing support for a genocide when you can make people outraged at the scary Irish louts in balaclavas (allegedly) saying that Hamas are way cool? It won’t surprise you to hear, then, that this witch hunt had the exact opposite effect. “The Recap” marks the band’s evolution from adolescent provocateurs to voice of a generation status, as Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap sneeringly sum up the myriad ways in which The Man shot himself in the foot trying to silence them. In ten years, no one will remember Keir Starmer or Kemi Badenoch, but the entire Glastonbury crowd will still chant along to “The Recap”.

Man/Woman/Chainsaw – “Only Girl”

Man/Woman/Chainsaw have a lot in common with the current incarnation of Black Country, New Road — lots of members, lots of instruments, very British, stupid band name — but their approach to kitchen-sink songcraft is a lot more direct. This London sextet is not afraid to let the guitars rip and the strings soar, and “Only Girl” is an excellent example of the controlled chaos they can sell like the best of them. A catchy violin melody and some splendid vocal harmonies form the backbone of this anthemic track, proving that a simple, three-and-a-half-minute, verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus banger doesn’t have to be convenient in the slightest.

Matt Berninger – “Bonnet of Pins”

People generally flock to Matt Berninger (and his band, The National) for measured and wistful chamber music, but I tend to prefer him when he’s rocking out. The man may look like your dad’s accountant, some of his lyrics seem like they come straight off of r/ambien, and he doesn’t so much sing as he mumbles — often needing female backing vocals to create a melody — but the swagger with which he composes himself, as well as the way in which his vocals on louder songs like “Mr. November”, “Day I Die” or “Tropic Morning News” build up intensity from an observant baritone to the invigorating calls of a preacher stirring his congregation into a frenzy make him a unique presence in the overcrowded indie rock space. “Bonnet of Pins” exists very much in the same space as the aforementioned songs, building to a spirited climax before cascading back into a chorus full of clunky, but oddly charming Berninger-isms. What even is a bonnet of pins, man? Why can’t you just be as boring as you look?

Model/Actriz – “Cinderella”

The words “queer anthem” are usually associated with exuberant pop music, but Model/Actriz channel the uncertainties and anxieties of growing up in the closet and finally coming out into a form of skeletal punk that has more in common with Joy Division than it does with Chappell Roan. “Cinderella” injects some danceability and high camp theatrics into the dark and dank caverns of noise rock. Cole Haden’s sensual delivery contrasts greatly with the sparse, martial bassline and the unholy metallic screeches of a guitar being tortured to its wits’ end, but it’s the rhythm that brings it all together into a surprise floor-filler that is as joyful as it is jittery. That bit where the guitarist revvs up his instrument like a sputtering lawnmower and the drums come back in at the start of the second verse are probably the best single five seconds of music of the year.

Perfume Genius – “It’s a Mirror”

Mike Hadreas rose to fame as a songsmith who could make an austere piano ballad hit like a punch to the gut. In the years since, he has blossomed into a painter of prismatic soundscapes, exorcising the uncompromising darkness of his earlier work into a both a revelry of and a reckoning with both his body and his psyche. Just compare — for example — the haunting “Mr. Peterson” to “Slip Away”, brought to you by every cathartic queer kiss scene in recent movie history. Nevertheless, the raw intensity that made Hadreas’ career remains even on “It’s a Mirror”, a soothing, yet ultimately euphoric foray into country and americana sounds that — like all Perfume Genius songs — is not a single note longer than it ought to be. An artist who can maintain their sense of self even across the boundaries of genre and mood, deserves all the respect they can get, which is exactly why Hadreas has been a critical darling for years now.

Pommelien Thijs – “Atlas”

The older I get, the more I’ve come to appreciate my mother tongue as a legitimate vessel for artistic expression. Few things are more Flemish than dismissing the Dutch language as an inconvenience, but an artist like Pommelien Thijs proves this kind of self-deprecation is pointless. It’s clear her ambitions extend far beyond the borders of her small country, but that won’t stop her from singing in the language that best fits her poetic style. If the K-pop stars can pull it off, why not a 24-year-old from the eastmost of Jesus Nowheres?

Thijs may have started out as the face of what is essentially Belgium’s answer to Glee, the iron grip she maintains on her own creative integrity has quickly earned her the respect of just about any “serious” music aficionado in record time. Aside from writing her own music and lyrics, she also designs her own stage outfits and even learnt how to weld to create the album cover for her sophomore album Gedoe (Dutch for “shenanigans”). The album reflects this renaissance woman approach, dipping its toes into orchestral rock, punk and dance, but ultimately it’s the radio-friendly singles that showcase Phijs’ talents best. “Atlas”, for example, is an instantly memorable bit of folky pop, tying a catharic chorus to clever lyrics about an all-give no-take relationship gone awry. No wonder this song topped the Belgian charts for twenty-two weeks straight.

RAYE – “WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!”

What a great title. The shameless use of all-caps. The exclamation point in lieu of a question mark. The implication that RAYE is running around the supermarket yelling at strangers, only to find her husband in the magazine aisle leafing through the latest issue of Playboy. The subtle analogy with a classic iCarly scene in which a kid auditions for the titular webcast by reciting lines from a French play called “La où est ma femme?“. Absolute hilarity. Excellent song, too.

Rosalía (ft. Björk & Yves Tumor) – “Berghain”

You can’t do this, man. When a pop musician is described as being “classically trained”, we generally assume this to mean they, like, know how to play the piano, and not whatever the hell this is. We don’t mean learning thirteen different languages and hiring an entire symphonic orchestra and choir for a friggin’ opera song. I jumped off the Rosalía train back when the Catalan superstar traded in her flamenco roots for a more mainstream reaggaeton sound, so this sudden sonic turnabout came about as like-lightning-on-a-sunny-day to me as a bona fide divine epiphany. “Berghain” is an apocalyptic torch song about spiritual submission, using the orchestra’s performance for both soothing harmony and punishing dissonance to great effect. With her jaw-dropping vocal performance, Rosalía proves herself more than a match for queen of weird European pop experimentalists Björk, who makes a guest appearance here as some kind of angelic herald of Biblical revelation. Her single line, “the only thing that can save us is divine intervention,” may ring depressingly true in this day and age, but with “Berghain”, Rosalía makes a strong case for music as well.

Turnstile – “NEVER ENOUGH”

Turnstile’s NEVER ENOUGH — all-caps mandatory! — is for all intents and purposes, the best album of 2025. It’s a kaleidoscopic collection of songs running the gamut from meditative flute improvisations to kick-in-the-teeth hardcore rippers, energetic and introspective weaving in and out of one another to a jubilant whole, but even among the many, many, many highlights, the title track is a standout. Scaling scores of steep stairs from the beach all the way back to the clifftop Italian village where I spend spring break every year with this triumphant anthem playing in my ears is a memory for the ages. Sure, feeling like a god for achieving a feat the nonnas living there pull of multiple times a day probably makes me look like a complete chump, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

Wet Leg – “catch these fists”

Rhian Teasdale has stropped dressing like your grandma and started dressing like an MMA world champion who once ripped out the still-beating heart of her opponent in the ring and somehow got away with it, but despite the aesthetic shift Wet Leg are still their sassy selves. On “catch these fists”, the Isle of Wight’s most acerbic export product once again match Teasdale’s deadpan delivery and verbal barbs with effortlessly catchy hooks. Despite Wet Leg’s deeply personal sense of humor, the experiences they sing about are universal. After all, haven’t we all wanted to sock someone in the face at some point in our lives?

Haven’t had enough of my bizarre taste in music yet? As usual, some of my favourites didn’t quite make the final fifteen, and I’m all out of metaphors and old chestnuts, so these songs will unfortunately get little more than a listing on the list of honourable mentions:

On to the next one, then. If anything, we have a new Radiohead album to look forwards to. I mean, they haven’t announced one or anything, but y’know… they’re touring again and they’ve blown up on TikTok and it’s been ten fucking years since the last one, so pretty please?

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