Top Stuff of 2025 – Top 10 Albums

RULES:

I. Had to be released on streaming in the U.S. in 2025 (buying more albums in 2026!)

II. Had to sound good to me (be aware, I have niche tastes!)

III. Wasn’t just something I liked one particular single from (see the Top 10 Singles list for such cases!)

  1. Fooled by the Rush of Growing Up – Kidburn (nobody soundtracks sunsets like this guy!)
  2. Coloura – Coloura (I gotta start a playlist of song titles that reference Pete Wentz)
  3. Closer to the Sun – Said the Sky (“You can cry in the storm or you can dance in the rain”)
  4. So Much for Second Chances – SoSo (if Eiffel 65 went emo??)
  5. Love on the Edge of Desire – The Lightning Kids (makes me want to go on a night drive)

The feature: often a transparent label move to boost profits by uniting two big names, and yet also an opportunity for smaller performers to rev their engine with gas from established peers. Thus enabled, The Frst may not be as standalone as their name suggests, but as their “About” page once clarified: “You’re The Frst… We’re your soundtrack.” And the duo play that role ably, rolling with rockers like Sleeping With Sirens (rap-meets-mope “Bruce Lee”), Eagles of Death Metal (“Murderabilia,” Josh Homme still in fine form), and The Dangerous Summer (“Torpedo”). Meanwhile, “Pop Punk Song” is my hypothetical wrestling entrance fanfare. Consider me glad this album did, in fact, happen! 

VOILÀ topped this list in 2024, so if they’re lower in the ranking this time around, it’s nothing personal—just the shockwave of discovery fading into familiarity. Still, that familiarity is as one of my favorite bands, a debonair pair who mix cabaret aesthetics with witty wordplay and a gothic fixation on death and heartbreak. For this year’s bifurcated LP, the stage is unveiled with a slow-boil title track before launching into a screaming stream of odes to drinking alone (“after (h)ours”; “Unhappy Hour”), internet addiction (“Digital Zombies”), and the one that either got away or can’t fast enough (“Wish You Hell” and “VOGUE,” respectively). There’s tenderness too, though, from the homebody seduction of “Better Off” to the tearjerking vows of “LIFEBLOOD”… and I don’t have TikTok, but if I did, I think I’ve got some winning moves for “FMK!” Fellow magicians got a show indeed this year, and I’m ready for as many more acts as Messrs. Eisner and Ross have waiting in the wings. 

For some, it’ll be the moment when the girl once rumored to have apologized for saying “God” in a song now calls out Americans whitewashing Christ. For others, it’ll be out of the gates, with the clamorous bravado of “Ice in my OJ.” Maybe, if you’ve got the right sense of humor, it’s “Discovery Channel,” interpolating exactly the Bloodhound Gang line you think it does. To everyone who experiences Ego Death, however (everyone who can belt out “That’s What You Get” at their own karaoke bar, at least), a realization will come: oh, Hayley Williams is an artist. As if there was any doubt, but in striking out on her own during COVID, Williams introduced a sound evocative of Paramore yet undeniably more personal, diverse, and perverse. Over an hour and change, the singer-songwriter vents about racists, antidepressants, and bad flings, but also looking toward a brighter future (“Love Me Better”; “I Won’t Quit on You”). With as vibrant as her hair and advocacy have always been, I’ve no doubt she’ll get there!

The “Vaxis” cycle is where I went from being Coheed-curious to an unabashed C&C fan, if only because they eased up on the suites and threw in some more hooks. With part tres of the prospective pentalogy, little has changed sonically or narratively since A Window of the Waking Mind and Unheavenly Creatures—it’s metal, it’s theatrical, it’s nerdy, and I’m still not sure what’s going on without finishing the bonus novella. Notice how there was no complaint in there! “Goodbye, Sunshine” pours one out for a late companion with fitting vigor, “Someone Who Can” backgrounded more than one self-pep-talk this year, and I just about swerved off the road (complimentary) when I heard absolute firestorm “Blind Side Sonny” segue into the breakbeats of “Play the Poet.” I’ve seen them in concert twice, and Claudio willing, I’ll see them twice more for the next acts of this interstellar adventure. 

I’m not above unabashedly happy tunes, and yet I can’t deny that—thanks to Spotify’s deluge of content (canceling that subscription, promise)—I judge thumbnails at first glance. Look at this chump tossing paper airplanes, I might’ve thought; he will never be ballin’. Chalk me taking a chance on Knox up to wild curiosity—after Bilmuri rocked my world, I went scrolling though colleagues and wondered what a clean-cut kid was doing with that hog-man. Turns out, something mellower yet equally up my alley! “You Happened” scorns an ex with darkly comic specificity, “Pick Your Poison” bops all around a chance encounter over underage drinks, and “Not The 1975” parodies its namesake for a self-deprecating anthem. I’ve no doubt the performer has a diligent crew at the studio, but all the same, the result is mononym-worthy music.

Mayday Parade: you know ‘em, you love ‘em, you have five of their shirts and want a huge umbrella largely to imitate their old album covers (that last part was written while looking into a mirror). It’s tough to admit we can now say “three cheers for twenty years,” but the love’s still there—in smug Knuckle Puck collab “Who’s Laughing Now,” in half-full-hearted adieu “Pretty Good to Feel Something,” in requisite Calvin & Hobbes quote “I Must Obey the Inscrutable Exhortations of My Soul.” Elsewhere, “I Miss the 90s” plays misdirection with its nostalgic label, while “It’s Not All Bad” enters the canon of certified MP bangers, infusing their signature melodrama with 80s synth for a toast to—honoring one of their rawest cuts—“the good that became of that crash.” This spot’s a little crowded, but until I hear a release date for the prophesied threequel, I’m treating these as an S-tier double album. 

Watching the edgy rock star archetype evolve over generations can be fascinating. Whereas all-purpose rage and casual homophobia may once have been the play (Hollywood Undead really just climbed onto the charts in ‘08 with some of those lyrics, huh), contemporary bad boys are more likely to get loud and proud about not just queerness but also mental health. Exhibit J: Jack the Underdog, who blessed my collection with this effervescent sophomore effort (and a sugarcoated nightcore version) when I least expected it! “I’M HAPPY (JUST IN CASE)” taps the UFO fixation of fellow Tom DeLonge fans for a rush of stoner optimism, “LIL ME” acerbically wallows in dreams dashed by people “who give me head—aches,” and “LIVE LAUGH LOBOTOMY” raises a two-minute-fifty-three-second middle finger to… well, can you take a number? At last count, this guy covered “Wood” and didn’t change a word. Taylor Swift isn’t on the list this year (wonder why), but with any luck, Mr. Underdog will be again. 

We have music for every season, or so it often seems. Cheery melodies for a spring in one’s step, that coveted “song of the summer,” autumnal indie, and then about four months of Christmas jingles (nights, rainy or not, synthwave’s got you covered). But what about when it’s just kinda… spooky? Chilly, misty, not a lot of people on the street? Enter Haunted Mouths, the side project from Sleeping With Sirens frontman/roving guest vocalist Kellin Quinn, and A Collection of Greetings. “Further Til We Disappear” sets the mood, eerie tones quivering over passages about rabbit holes, pumpkin tarts, and crashing waves, and what follows are soundscapes at home in bleak January (where I first listened) or pre-Halloween October alike. It comes across as traditional yet bold, meek yet forceful, and cold yet comforting. This is music for equinoxes, where day and night are symmetrical but there’s not as much to celebrate, and it’s all just a bit gray out. Glad to finally have something to stroll to in such weather! 

Some of my favorite bands got that way because of how well they blow up a projection of my heaviest emotions, like shadow puppets lit to towering proportions: Mayday Parade’s chin-up wistfulness, the operatic angst of My Chemical Romance, A Day to Remember and their easycore screeds against conformity. If I had to pick the group that best captures how I’ve actually felt on my most trying days, though, it’d be The Summer Set. “About a Girl” crystalized the unrequited what-ifs of undergrad, and “Legendary” dominated countless twentysomething daydreams, but it was when the inspiring “Figure Me Out” led—after a mutual creative hiatus—to the callback of “Back Together” that I knew. Now, with MMATRS, the quartet have zeroed in with GeoGuessr precision on my feels… and not a moment too soon! “For the First Time” revels in realizing it’s never too late to come alive, “34” is a bittersweet celebration of nearing middle age, and leave it to these guys to riff on that myth about where a certain shoe name came from with “ADIDAS.” For TSS, life has always been one big party, for better or worse. I used to not really like parties, but I think I’m ready to let myself enjoy one.

Look, I’m just as surprised as you are. With as tiring as “fake geek girls” discourse was at the time, I defended a rising 5 Seconds of Summer against “fake punk boy” allegations—but there’s no denying that “She Looks So Perfect,” with its product-placement chorus and lullaby-adjacent verses, was a corny first impression deserving of the One Direction comparisons. I got down with a few tracks from their eponymous debut and its successor, but that was kinda it. Until.

Everyone’s a Star! marks a total reinvention, if not breaking new ground then at least breaking away from the Top 40 ambitions of old and toward something darker, sexier, yet still eminently catchy. As titles like “NOT OK” and lines like “can you feel my heart” indicate, these gentleman have enjoyed some emo in their time, but this is no mere sad-boy cash-in; there’s notes of Bring Me the Horizon, but also the soft-spoken rambles of Gorillaz, The 1975-like wails (sorry, Knox!), The Weeknd’s electric lasciviousness, and on and on, with room to spare for serenades like the anguished “I’m Scared I’ll Never Sleep Again.” It’s minor-key one minute, club-ready the next, and—as the deluxe edition and one unexpectedly funny track acknowledge—evolved indeed. In studying their most gracefully aged genre forefathers, 5SOS have arrived at my ideal merger of pop and the hard stuff. It’s not a guilty pleasure; honestly, I think I’m ready to retire that phrase. It’s just a pleasure—to dance to, croon to, love to, and everything in-between. As said stars, let’s keep those good vibes going into 2026 and beyond!  

Top Stuff of 2025 – Top 10 Singles

RULES:

I. Had to be released as a single on streaming in the U.S. in 2025 (buying more albums in 2026!)

II. Had to sound good to me (be aware, I have niche tastes!)

III. Wasn’t also a track on one of my Top 10 Albums (coming soon!)

There’s a certain vibe—you know it when you hear it—to Aughts alt-rock that contemporary acts carrying a torch for the era can struggle with: not just mad and sad but keening, wistful, and apt to equate despair with some ruinous natural phenomenon. 2017’s brief Afterthoughts was admittedly just that for many moons, yet in what’s been teased so far, Greywind’s pending trip to Severed Heart City is poised to whip up a whole new storm.

Who was the first band to do the whole “sardonic long song name” thing? I’ve always assumed Fall Out Boy, but it’s fun to imagine some similarly verbose predecessor. In any event, First & Forever have been dropping downtrodden tracks for a while with no full-length in sight, but in their latest batch, they’ve arrived at a promising flourish: medieval melancholy meets bangin’ riffs. Toss on a title that’s irreverent in every sense, and this might just be my favorite F&F not led by Vin Diesel (although, just imagine…).

Hey, do you miss vintage Blink? The fellas in FlickN do, and with cheeky moniker in tow, they spent 2025 cranking out one skate-punk homage after another. That I came to learn of them through a fellow attorney acquainted with one member might’ve tilted the scale (without giving away too much, I believe they’re from the area), but I suspect I’d relish hearing this sound come back ‘round regardless. Looking forward to that freshman album!

An embarrassing anecdote is that, growing up, I didn’t know Yellowcard had a violinist. I was introduced to them by “The Takedown” in Guitar Hero: Van Halen (2009), where I just assumed—sandwiched between saintly Eddie solos—I was miming really fast strumming. While I arrived at their full catalog too late to embrace every minute of this year’s titular album, then, the band’s resurgence at the crest of the “When We Were Young” wave is a welcome call to positivity, Blockbuster-bound music video and all. No, it’s not too late!

It’s the aging emo’s dilemma: If I finally, for serious this time, clean up and turn that frown upside-down, am I still me? All Time Low was always bubbly even for “pop punk,” but when decades-strong frontman Alex Gaskarth frets about whether, now “over the rain clouds,” he’s as appealing as back then, it’s hard not to relate, even without merch sales to monitor. I’d like to be known as happy and well-adjusted… but what if it is the madness in the man that makes the music?

Gotta rep for local talent! Coven Dove, in their own words, makes “witch-pop stories from the pit,” and having attended a hometown concert earlier this year, I can confirm the classic-meets-cryptic appeal firsthand. If you like smooth tunes for an evening in or at the bar, this is an outfit to watch out for.

The cross-pollination between hip-hop and punk rock always intrigues me even as it tends to go one way, with rappers copping a guitarist and new flow. Rematch, however, picked a fitting name twice over, coming back from years of sporadic singles with their first record proper and this gear-switching centerpiece. With its pity-party chorus and nod to weeping at G-notes, “6SPEED” is a sure shoutout to scenehood, and yet it’s also cocky and self-referential, singer Matt LeGrand spitting boasts about stacks of cash as his “boys” blast through fangirl speakers that feel spiritually at home in the club. It may claim to be Nothing Like You Wanted, but this blend of flavors is just what I needed.

Yeah, it’s all gonna be about self-improvement from here on. The hit-to-eh ratio on NFG’s (many) LPs has always been a bit too bottom-heavy for me to identify as an outright fan… so if I saw them in concert and have a pennant of theirs on my wall, that’s just because when they’re good, they’ve glorious indeed. I may not always reach that coveted full quantity, but I aspire to this attitude, this goal, and with the same jubilant insistence that’s kept these dudes going strong since ‘99.

Here comes a technicality, since only a variant with Slowly Slowly from a deluxe reissue of The Hart made it as a single, but it’s my self-imposed gesture at music critic conventions and I’ll bend it if I want to. Bend and break, really, as this gale-force tribute to a loving partner became the latest installment in a small, unwritten playlist of ballads I can’t carpool-karaoke along to without welling up. Pining for unrequited love may be the cornerstone of many songs, but celebrating someone who’s already there for you, and always has been? That’s bedrock.

In the early months of 2024, I sought mental health services for the first time. The circumstances aren’t relevant, suffice it to say that I worried I’d be a hazard to myself if I didn’t phone a professional. Therapy followed (“professional growth coaching,” rather—tomayto, tomahto) as, by coincidence, my boss decided I had enough potential that it was worth bankrolling me seeing someone who could loosen up a few interpersonal kinks. And with their powers combined… well, it worked. I’m still not perfect, but I’m better than I was five years ago, and I want to keep improving. As I always try to remind myself, regret is cheap. There’s infinite things we all could’ve done, but there’s just as many things we still can do. I won’t turn my back on the past like I once did, but I’m also ready to move from reaction to action. I won’t let the future just come—I’ll bring it toward me. I’ll still get scared, sad, anxious, and angry sometimes. But when it happens, with eyes on the horizon, I won’t let that pain haunt me.