The Tamesis
If 2024 was the year of the breakout pop star—here’s looking at you, Charli, Chappell, and Sabrina—then 2025 in music was the year of… well, a bit of everything. Sure, we had our fair share of standout pop records—Addison, Virgin, and West End Girl among them—but it was also a bumper year for rock acts pushing at the limits of their genre, from Geese to Turnstile. And that’s without mentioning the artists from outside the Anglophone world who dominated the year: most notably Bad Bunny, with his chart-topping, award-winning masterpiece Debí Tirar Más Fotos, and Rosalía with the sensational Lux, which saw her swerve between genres (and 13 different languages) to create one of the most inventive records in recent memory. There may be no simple takeaways from 2025’s standout releases, but one thing’s for sure: we were never, ever bored.
Here, find Vogue’s pick of the 45 best albums of the year.
Addison Rae, Addison
At this point, it feels almost quaint to think that, upon the release of her 2021 debut single “Obsessed,” Addison Rae’s music career was viewed with amusement. Then came the release of her AR EP in 2023, accompanied by a Vogue interview in which Rae outlined her impressive breadth of references and fierce ambition. Next, there was the remarkable string of singles she released ahead of her debut album, Addison, in June—“Diet Pepsi” still sounds as fresh as the day its tab was popped, while “Fame Is a Gun” remains one of the most thrilling sonic dissections of celebrity in recent memory—Rae has proved herself to be one of the smartest pop auteurs we have right now. Addison is the perfect riposte to Rae’s doubters, not because it ever stoops to addressing them head-on, but because it’s just a really excellent record, crafted with a tight team of songwriters and producers: stylish, a little subversive, and a brilliant showcase for Rae’s superlative taste. A star is born. —Liam Hess
Audrey Hobert, Who’s The Clown?
Who’s the clown? Me, because I came to this album relatively late—rest assured, it still cracked the top echelons of my Spotify Wrapped. LA musician Audrey Hobert—who was previously known for co-writing hits like “That’s So True” with her friend Gracie Abrams—has produced a breakout album that’s fun and frenetic, neurotic and silly, anxious and desperate, petty and pathetic. That might sound like hell but I promise it makes for just heavenly pop—“Thirst Trap” feels like it’s straight from the soundtrack of a Brat Pack film. “Sex and the City” moves towards the haze of a crush to the…crushing clarity, and “Sue Me,” Hobert’s sparkling debut single, prods at the desire to be desired, made for a crowd ready to lock in. It’s all synthy, cinematic swoops for romanticizing your life in the back of an Uber to, shredding pop punk guitars to cut through a shrooms trip, a heart-raising saxophone solo to soundtrack taking a nude (and crashing out a bit). —Anna Cafolla
Bad Bunny, Debí Tirar Más Fotos
Debí Tirar Más Fotos, Bad Bunny’s sixth album, arrived in January and immediately set the tone for the year ahead. The 17 songs perfectly capture the sonic cacophony that is driving around Puerto Rico on any given day—salsa, reggaeton, plena, dembow, all coming every which way. Among the requisite party jams (“Nueva Yol,” “Eoo,” “Café con Ron”) and heartbreak anthems (“Bokete,” “Turista”), there is also a real bold honesty. It’s there in the sweet romanticism of “Weltita,” and “DTMF;” and it’s certainly there in the anti-colonialist (yes, really) sentiments of “La Mudanza,” and “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii.” They may sound like odd bedfellows, but if there’s anything that Puerto Ricans love more than having a good time, it is their flag, their island, and being Puerto Rican. The bottom line is that this is a record full of certified bangers—you don’t have to speak Spanish to know to shake your ass. —Laia Garcia-Furtado
Blondshell, If You Asked for a Picture
Blondshell’s self-titled debut album, dropped back in 2023, introduced the world to Sabrina Teitelbaum’s bold, bloodletting lyricism—torrid and tear-stained, smart and sarcastic. Its follow-up, If You Asked for a Picture, expands from that first emotional uppercut into a one-two-knockout. It’s a second album that picks up on the bad decisions and relationship trip-ups of her debut, but with a sense of crystallizing clarity, unafraid of picking up more questions along the way. “What’s Fair” is a stark examination of a mother-daughter relationship, while “23’s a Baby” is a deep-in-the-weeds-of-your-20s banger. Once again working with producer Yves Rothman, Teitelbaum oscillates through the ocean-deep sounds and textural vocals of The Cranberries and the dream pop arcs of The Sundays and Mazzy Star, to the grungier breakdowns of Queens of the Stone Age and The Smashing Pumpkins—while always managing to feel fresh and light-footed. Blondshell is a star fearlessly showing us more of herself as an artist. —A.C.
Bon Iver, Sable Fable
Last fall, Justin Vernon emerged with a trio of songs, a seemingly de rigueur Bon Iver project (read: devastating). But in April, Vernon followed up with the second part of Sable, Fable, a collection of nine soulful, buoyant songs that ditch the livewire pain but keep the introspection. The record takes the listener from the pitch-black heartbreak we’re used to into a new, peaceful chapter. It’s not entirely devoid of anxiety, but it takes a more evolved approach. Vernon himself sums it up best on the penultimate track, “There’s a Rhythm”: “I’ve had one home that I’ve known / And maybe it’s the time to go / I could leave behind the snow / For a land of palm and gold / But there are miles and miles to go / And I’ve been down this road before / There’s another chance to show / No need to crow no more.” —Hannah Jackson
Cameron Winter, Heavy Metal
Cameron Winter dropped his debut solo album right at the end of 2024, following on from 2023 LP 3D Country as frontman of the band Geese. (Because Heavy Metal arrived too late to feature in Vogue’s 2024 list, we’ve included it here instead.) 3D Country was excellent, proggy, wonderfully weird stuff, with Winter’s vocals contorting around the record’s ambitious, loose-limbed swoops: From rich spoken word to falsetto, a blushing baritone and a husky croon. But as a solo artist, Heavy Metal is even more of a triumph—Winter is a vulnerable, devotional songwriter with compelling lyrical vignettes to stop you in your tracks. On the intimate and evocative piano-led track “Love Takes Miles”: “I need somebody sent down from the sun that talks to me how you used to.” Instrumentation is textured and liberated: Mouth harps and horn sections, a mandolin, a Wurlitzer organ. Wandering is a central motif, as he meditates on existential fears. “Walking and walking, you used up your feet,” Winter sings on “Can’t Keep Anything.” On “$0,” with that sublimely building “God is real” proclamation, you’d follow him anywhere. —A.C.
Caroline, Caroline 2
The second album from London eight-piece band Caroline is a wondrous, maybe kinda magical patchwork quilt of a record—at its edges, fraying layers of a core avant-folk sound left purposefully freewheeling and unfinished, threads diverging into midwest emo and plaintive pop. At its heart, a taut, bold, brightly spun symphony. The album opens with “Total Euphoria,” which introduces us to the expanding, ever-wonderfully wonky Caroline universe, with trombones, a bass clarinet, harmonium, and violin. It closes out with “Beautiful ending”—an aching and cinematic farewell. Caroline Polachek joins the group for “Tell me I never knew that”—a perfect collaborator, with her hyperreal voice enveloped in Caroline’s own edenic, uncanny sonic valley. “I don’t even know if I’m alive, but I don’t wanna be somebody else. Maybe I don’t wanna be anyone, and I don’t wanna be somebody else,” Polachek sings. We’re all in this otherworldly freak-out together. Caroline 2 is a record for soundtracking that big epiphany you’ve been needing to have—preferably as you stare out into the wave-whipped English seas from a cliff-top. —A.C.
CMAT, Euro Country
Ciara Mary Alice Thompson is the confluence of two swirling trends: the rollicking, subversive strain of country music (as seen elsewhere with Chappell Roan), and the cresting ‘green wave’ led by Irish actors, artists, and musicians who have pop culture rapt. But it is only the singular CMAT—a young woman from Dunboyne who lyrically bandies from her burning hatred for TV chef Jamie Oliver’s gas station delis, to Irish mythological hero Cú Chulainn, and British soap opera Coronation Street—who could produce such a sweeping emotional landscape as Euro Country. The 12-track album is rich with heart-on-sleeve and intrusive-thought frankness, reckoning with heartbreak, social class, disconnected identity, crashing out and coming back stronger. “Running/Planning” rages against the job/marriage/kids tick boxes, while “Take A Sexy Picture Of Me” lives beyond its viral fame as an enduring anthem encouraging the hot girl in everyone—and that anyone who tells you otherwise is a freak. —A.C.
Dean Blunt with Elias Rønnenfelt and Vegyn, Lucre
Seven really is a lucky number for this trio. This release covers a lot of (indie) ground in just 16 minutes with Dean Blunt’s smooth strumming and Elias Rønnenfelt’s (Iceage) scratchy voice adapting to different tempos and moods. Released on January 1, the album art—a blurry photograph of daffodils—hints at the dreaminess of the sound and the promise of spring that are embodied by those cheery, ephemeral flowers. (“Seven” caught me in its hypnotic web especially.) —Laird Borrelli-Persson
Dijon, Baby
Dijon Duenas gained a legion of new fans this year when Justin Bieber tapped him for his Swag saga, earning Dijon a Grammy nomination for producer of the year. (It’s been a busy 2025: you can find his fingerprints on Bon Iver’s Sable, Fable, and watch him deliver a very memorable line about his sexual preferences in One Battle After Another.) Fans of Bieber’s “Daisies” will recognize the poppy R&B sound in Dijon’s second solo album, Baby. On the titular track (also his son’s name), he addresses his child, telling him how he met his mother, their first night together, and his birth. For all the sweetness, there’s plenty of sexy jams, like “(Freak It)” and “Yamaha.” While Dijon’s sound is distinct and immediately recognizable, you can still hear his forebears’ influence: D’Angelo, Bon Iver, and—most of all—Prince. He’s in great company. —H.J.
Djo, The Crux
If Joe Keery’s alter ego Djo were distilled into a single word, it’d be groovy—not in the bell-bottoms wearing sense, but the involuntary head-bob, foot-tap along kind. His third studio album, The Crux, is no different. What’s most impressive is the distinctly Djo effect of jamming several musical decades into a single album and somehow making it all feel cohesive. There’s the pulsating ’80s synth-rock ballad “Link,” which channels a smidgen of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” (I could totally see Courteney Cox dancing along in blue jeans for this one, too). On the other hand, “Potion” leans into folky, John Lennon-esque wispy vocals and plucky guitars. With Stranger Things reaching its series finale, it’s high time people start thinking of Keery as a musician first—or should I say, Djo Keery. —Concetta Ciarlo
Eli, Stage Girl
This was a late discovery for me—I only stumbled upon Eli a few weeks ago after becoming addicted to the slice of Y2K pop perfection that is “Glitter”—but ever since, I’ve had her album Stage Girl on repeat. While the visuals surrounding Eli’s project might suggest it’s all a little tongue-in-cheek (her artwork designs recall early ’00s Hilary Duff CDs, while her style signature is a sequined fedora) but her ear for a well-judged production quirk and a powerhouse chorus betrays the fact she takes the art of writing a great pop song very seriously indeed. There’s also a certain bite to the way she plays around with the gendered yearning of pop music from that era, informed by her trans identity—just take the gorgeously silky and lovelorn “Marianne,” a standout track that sees her sing: “No, I’ll never be your wife, no, I’m not your man / You wanted tradition, right? I guess I understand.” Like the best pop music, it appears straightforwardly glossy on the surface, but contains surprising hidden depths. —L.H.
Erika de Casier, Lifetime
If there’s one artist who effortlessly evokes nostalgia while sounding entirely fresh, it’s Erika de Casier. (Her songwriting on NewJeans’ mega-hit “Super Shy” also speaks to her knack for crafting addictive melodies.) On her latest release, Lifetime, the Copenhagen-based artist dives deep into ’90s references, sampling the high-pitched screech from Cypress Hill’s “Insane in the Brain” on the flirty standout “Delusional,” and channeling Janet Jackson with vintage dial tones on the sultry, slowed-down “The Chase.” Reminiscent of trip-hop icons like Esthero, Portishead, and Massive Attack, de Casier’s self-released project—written entirely by her—leans into swelling synth stabs, hazy atmospherics, and delay-drenched, soft-spoken vocals to explore the intricacies of digital intimacy and desire. It’s the perfect loungey escape. —Chelsea Daniel
Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You
Hayden Anhedönia expanded the Ethel Cain Cinematic Universe with two projects this year, Perverts in January and Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You in August. While the former was a more experimental offering, Willoughby Tucker was packed with the Southern Gothic narrative-driven ballads that we craved. Highlights include the synthy “F**k Me Eyes,” filled with evocative lyrics like “Nowhere to go, she’s just along for the ride / She’s scared of nothing but the passenger’s side / Of some old man’s truck in the dark parking lot / She’s just tryna feel good right now”; the long-awaited demo “Dust Bowl”; and the aching, eight-minute epic “Nettles.” —H.J.
Geese, Getting Killed
Geese, Geese, Geese. Everywhere you turn, there is a story, a meme, a reference to this band of 20-somethings from Brooklyn that seemingly exploded into the world this year with their third major label record release. If you are one of the people that can’t abide by hype and are choosing to “skip this one,” I understand, but just know that you are really missing out on an all-time great record. Getting Killed is rock, and pop, and it’s a little psychedelic sometimes, and a little jam band-y other times, but above all, it’s a rollicking good time. The kind that reminds you why you got into music in the first place. If you can, see them live—they will give you hope for the future. —L.G-F.
Haim, I Quit
A few years ago, Danielle, Este, and Alana Haim all found themselves single at the same time—a first in over a decade. The pain of past breakups and the freedom of their newfound independence begot their fourth studio album, I Quit. A concept album that traces the dissolution of a relationship, Haim runs the gamut of nostalgia, rage, and—eventually—jubilation. Their most uninhibited album to date (as exemplified by the freewheeling title), the band is not bound by genre on this record, from the shoegazey “Lucky Stars” to the rock’n’roll electric guitar riffs on “Blood on the Street.” And while Danielle heavily shaped the album’s sound (she co-produced it with Rostam Batmanglij), each sister has their moment to shine, Alana on “Spinning” and Este leading “Cry.” When it comes to not giving a fuck, some bands are all talk, but not Haim. They had fun making this record, and it shows. —H.J.
Hayley Williams, Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party
Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party, the third solo album from Paramore’s Hayley Williams, has varied, layered concerns: the gentrification of Nashville, Southern reparations (or the lack thereof), vitality via her antidepressant medication, the existential crisis of her imminent late 30s. That these songs became a complete work feels almost accidental; in late July, Williams tossed 17 password-protected files onto the website of her hair dye brand Good Dye Young. As fans passed around the code on Reddit threads, the disparate singles began to coalesce into one of her most dynamic works yet—a rock record fused with R&B influences and acoustic guitars that drives her sensibility and lyricism forward even as it’s shaped by the heartbreaks of her past. By the time Ego Death officially released on August 28, she’d added the album’s unyielding closer, “Parachute,” which earned one of the album’s four Grammy nominations. In it, piano gives way to pulsing drums, and her voice builds to a throaty, broken-hearted second verse: ‘What was the moment you decided to give up?/I thought you were gonna catch me.” She knows better now. The armor’s up, the parachute deployed. Watch her fly. —P. Claire Dodson
James K, Play
Known for her boundary-pushing collaborations—most notably the shimmery “Open” with Yves Tumor from her EP 036—James K has a talent for crafting soundscapes where texture and emotion blur into one another, often treating her voice as an instrument that appears in brief, ethereal flashes, as on her most popular track “Ultra Facial!”. But with the arrival of “Blinkmoth (July Mix),” one of the singles from her new album Friend, it became clear she was stepping into a new sonic era. Her vocals move to the forefront without sacrificing any of her signature collage-style production. Standouts from the album like “Play,” one of the more upbeat tracks that murmurs, “I really wanna be your guy, Do you wanna beat me up on your side?” and “Hypersoft Lovejinx Junkdream,” which reimagines boa’s “Duvet” in a haze of lush distortion and breakbeats, have been in heavy rotation. —C.D.
Jane Remover, Revengeseekerz
At a moment when there is just so much vying for our attention, it is perhaps the loudest and stormiest music that rises to the top. It did for me anyway in 2025. The artist Jane Remover’s brand of EDM, glitchcore rap, and punk-inspired noise is probably not for everyone, but this young artist’s talent for hooks and blasts and beat drops may catch you by surprise. Revengeseekerz is the strongest album they have produced, and it has quickly become my most-listened to of the year. Try the standouts “JRJRJR” and “Dreamflasher”—tracks that are tense, absorbing and thrilling with momentum. —Taylor Antrim
Jennie, Ruby
Jennie was the last of the Blackpink members to release her solo album after the group went on a brief hiatus to pursue their solo careers—but her album Ruby was sure worth the wait. Not only does she have an impressive roster of featured artists on her album, from Dua Lipa to Doechii, but it showcases sides of Jennie she wasn’t always able to as a member of Blackpink. On “Like Jennie”—because who doesn’t want to be like the pop star?—she sings, “Who wanna rock with Jennie, keep your hair done, nails done like Jennie, who else got ‘em obsessed like Jennie?” For some, these lines may read a little narcissistic—but when you’re familiar with Jennie’s unapologetic aura, it all makes sense. Even without the Blackpink name, Jennie proved she has what it takes to be a mainstream pop artist in her own right. —Irene Kim
Joy Guidry, Five Prayers
Following her sophomore album Amen, which fused Negro spiritual idioms with free jazz to explore her Southern Creole roots and religious upbringing, Joy Guidry returns with Five Prayers—a meditative foray into ambient music that solidifies her place as one of the most innovative voices in experimental sound. On this album (also her first self-released project under Jaid Records), Guidry reimagines the bassoon, using it to craft haunting melodies and showcasing techniques such as looping to push the instrument beyond its traditional classical roots. Collaborating with keyboardist and producer Diego Gaeta, harpist Elizabeth Steiner, and electronic producer JWords, the five-song project spans a range of textures and emotions, reflecting Guidry’s message of radical acceptance and vulnerability. Having shared the stage with André 3000 and frequent collaborators Niecy Blues and Scott Li, Joy’s music is best experienced live (as I can attest, having seen her at Dripping this year where she got the entire audience to jump to their feet and scream). Each performance is fully improvised, personal and transformative—another nod to the honesty and transparency in her art making. —C.D.
KeiyaA, Hooke’s Law
The acclaim for keiyaA’s debut 2020 album, Forever, Ya Girl, propelled her into bed rot—a mental spiral swirled by the pressures of following up a record that captivated critics and gig crowds around the world, untangling herself from a toxic relationship. Thankfully, Hooke’s Law is a charged, sonic refusal to capitulate, oscillating from the club to the smoky jazz bar. From the years KeiyaA spent navigating loss, grief, and confusion comes something both crystal clear and fearlessly experimental: Honey slick harmonies rub up against distorted synths, arcade sounds and autotune interweave with punk, flirty R&B, velvety instrumentals. There are also flashes of wicked humor: “Lucky for you I’m not the old me, I would’ve burned this shit down comfortably.” “Do I wanna die or am I just hungry?” she asks atop the tempestuous piano chords of “Get 2 Close to Me.” “Stupid Prizes,” a standout, speaks to what it feels like being a marginalized person in America, set to the rich, luscious sounds of orchestral composer Percy Faith. Listen through in one fell swoop, and feel transformed too. —A.C.
Lady Gaga, Mayhem
“I really wanted to have a very free experience. I didn’t want to box myself in.” That’s what Lady Gaga told Vogue about her seventh studio album, Mayhem—and it couldn’t be more representative of the perfectly chaotic mixture of sounds she delivered on her latest record. (A pop record, at its core.) From her aggro-dance banger “Abracadabra”—a-bra-cadabraaaa!—to her headbanging rock anthems like “Perfect Celebrity” or sweet power ballads like “Blade of Grass,” Mayhem makes for one hell of a wild ride. Even so, all the different sonic experimentations have that signature Gaga sound, always complete with stellar production and even greater vocals. Released in March, it’s still been on repeat all summer. Come for “Disease,” her lead single, and stay for “Vanish Into You,” which should be her next. —Christian Allaire
Lily Allen, West End Girl
Lily Allen’s West End Girl landed in late October with little fanfare preceding it—just a candid interview with British Vogue in which the British musician opened up for the first time about her recent divorce, and the reveal of the album’s striking artwork, a painting of Allen in a polka dot puffa jacket. So listening to it in full all the way through was a (quite literally) jaw-dropping experience: across its 14 tracks, the story unfolds chronologically of Allen’s marriage and how it came apart—and then, eventually, how she put herself back together again. Naturally, it came with plenty of Allen’s acid-laced wit and casual observational brilliance—the unsparing way in which she lists the sordid details of her ex-husband’s betrayal on “Pussy Palace,” butt plugs and all, will remain firmly lodged in the mind of all who have listened—but West End Girl also served as a reminder of Allen’s brilliance as a songwriter: it’s an album jampacked with clever production details and gorgeous melodies and killer hooks. (Seriously, we defy you to get “Dallas Major” out of your head after even a single listen.) This was the best comeback story of 2025. —L.H.
Lorde, Virgin
When she unveiled her album art, an X-ray of her pelvis, Lorde told us that Virgin would be nothing short of vulnerable. Still, she somehow managed to exceed all expectations, delivering a record so unsparingly honest that you can feel it in your marrow. With Virgin, Lorde refuses to pull any punches: sex, effluvia, generational trauma, gender identity, eating disorders, drugs, and anxieties are all on the table—and in great detail. She excavates her innermost thoughts for us, telling us that she wants her partners to be God; that she wants to know her mother on a cellular level; that she wants to know if she’ll ever love, and be loved, again. Smartly acting as a counterbalance to her confessional lyrics is the restrained production from Jim-E Stack. Nothing underscores this more than “Clearblue,” a layered a cappella account of unprotected sex and, later, waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. “Oh, I wish I’d kept the Clearblue / I’d remember how it feels to / Be in the throes,” she cries. It’s raw and spiky, her soul is cracked open. It’s her best work yet. She left it all on the field. —H.J.
Maria Somerville, Luster
I came to this album in the best possible way: Having heard nothing of the artist, never mind the album, until a friend with impeccable taste in music told me it had reoriented her life. How could one not listen? It didn’t disappoint: Pitched somewhere betwixt and between dream pop (emphasis on dream) and the everywhere-this-year shoegaze (emphasis on gaze), Luster finds its very own terrain amidst spare instrumentation, breathy vocals, and lyrics—there’s heartbreak, longing, and an evocative sense of place drawing from her home in Ireland’s County Galway—that are spare and vague enough to be almost meaningless standing on their own but profound in situ. This is only Somerville’s second album—her first, 2019’s All My People, put a hazy, ghost-like spin on folk-tinged ballads—but it’s both an enormous creative leap forward and, quite simply, the kind of transcendent work of art that, whether or not it reorients your life, can stop you in your tracks. —Corey Seymour
Model/Actriz, Pirouette
Was there a more thrilling opening track on any album this year than “Vespers” from the Brooklyn indie rock quartet Model/Actriz’s superb second album Pirouette? Over a pummeling kick drum, an electric guitar is picked at frenetic speed, as lead singer Cole Haden sings mysteriously of nights spent queuing for the club or crouched in prayer—a neat reflection of the album’s intense, almost-church like atmosphere and the fact it’s packed with beats and melodies that almost demand you to dance. (And while I’ve yet to see Model/Actriz live, many have described their rowdy live shows as an almost religious experience.) Haden mentioned taking his cues from pop icons like Janet Jackson and Kylie Minogue in interviews, and the irresistible hooks of tracks like “Diva” and “Cinderella” speak to that—not only is it one of the most exhilarating listens of the year, it’s one of the catchiest too. —L.H.
Oklou, Choke Enough
In a somewhat unexpected turn of events, 2026 ended up being the French experimental pop musician Oklou’s breakout year: the artist has spent the best part of a decade slowly bubbling up, gaining traction through collaborations with artists like Caroline Polachek and Sega Bodega. Her deserved success came about thanks to Choke Enough, her debut album (2020’s Galore was technically a mixtape) which offered the most fully realized version yet of Oklou’s distinctive sonic blend of aqueous Y2K-ish synths with glitchy beats and her canny ear for a haunting, classical-inflected melody. (Standout track “Harvest Sky,” which pairs lyrics that sound like the incantation of a medieval witch over thunderous trance synths courtesy of Underscores and Danny L. Harle, is the perfect example.) Oklou might have been the artist everyone was talking about this year, but Choke Enough proved the world she’s built is something altogether more timeless. —L.H.
Olivia Dean, The Art of Loving
Thanks to the catchy tunes and relatable lyrics of singles like “Nice to Each Other” and “Man I Need,” TikTok declared summer 2025 an “Olivia Dean summer.” But when her second album, The Art of Loving, dropped at the end of September—a no-skips record in every sense—Ms. Dean introduced listeners to a more mature version of the pop girl they’d grown to love. On tracks like “Baby Steps,” the 26-year-old transforms the slow, often messy process of healing from a breakup into a feel-good soul tune, and on “Let Alone the One You Love,” she reminds us that it’s okay to yearn. The range of the British singer, it seems, knows no bounds. —Taylor Lashley
Pile, Sunshine and Balance Beams
How to categorize the Boston band Pile? Post-hardcore is probably closest—a microgenre of pummeling DIY indie rock with doses of melody and sonic experimentation. But Pile is a tough band to get acquainted with. They have released nine highly varied albums since 2010, and neatly characterizing any one of them is impossible (some are ethereal and quiet, others knotty and loud). The constant is Rick Maguire’s muscular voice and kinetic guitar and both are in fine form on Pile’s new album Sunshine and Balance Beams—a terrific entry point, as it happens, for this cult band. There are glimpses of strings and synths here, swoony melodies, and moments of titanic thrashing too. Try the headlong “Deep Clay” and see if it doesn’t reel you in. —T.A.
PinkPantheress, Fancy That
“My name is Pink, and I’m really glad to meet you.” You’ve probably heard the opening lyrics to PinkPantheress’s song “Illegal” all over TikTok by now—but with her new album, Fancy That, the English pop star has proven that she is much more than just a viral TikTok artist. Killer beats are paired with her soft, airy talk-singing—making for undeniable bops that you can’t help playing over and over (and over). Tracks like “Tonight” are the perfect upbeat songs to commute to work to; “Stateside” is more built to shake your ass to at the club. In a sea of perfect pop records this summer (yay, recession pop!), PinkP has cultivated a unique (and very influential) sound of her own. —C.A.
Princess Nokia, Girls
Princess Nokia’s Girls is a feminist manifesto packaged as an extremely fun pop record. Written over the course of a year, Girls—which shifts between earworm-y hooks and confrontational swagger—is a heartfelt love letter to women and femininity. But Nokia also delights in dragging men: the predators, the manipulators, and the ones who cross her. “How dare you weaponize my looks? I’m a bad bitch/You’re impotent and bald, we all know why you angry,” she snarls on “Medusa.” The production leans into Y2K maximalism—sparkling synths, hyper-pop flourishes and club-ready EDM beats—while never losing sight of Nokia’s signature New York grit. Over the course of 12 tracks, she proves her artistic confidence and musical skill while remaining deliciously entertaining and funny as hell. “Brow tint, lash lift, nails done, life’s great,” she purrs on “Matcha Cherry,” one of the album’s standout tracks. She loves being a girl! Listening to this album, who wouldn’t? —Alexandra Di Palma
Pulp, More
Pulp may have been the last big British band from the ’90s to crank themselves back into action—Suede had a couple years’ jump on them (even before their more recent Antidepressants), as did Blur; perhaps you’ve also heard about the Oasis reunion, but of course they didn’t put out an album—but the June release of More was a cause for both celebration and concern. What if, after 24 years, the legendary band, well, wasn’t so legendary? We needn’t have worried. All the ingredients for alchemy are still here: sex and heartbreak; camp and a kind of curated, acidic boredom; wit, synths, and an unrelenting eye on the casual perversions and indignities of an average day. What’s missing: bassist Steve Mackey, who died in 2023, though he co-wrote two of the songs here. What’s new: If Jarvis & Co. always seemed preternaturally mature (or perhaps just jaded) in their Different Class and This Is Hardcore heyday, on More they’ve grown into themselves—it’s less dancefloor-at-closing-time, more autumn-of-the-years wistfulness. Come for “Spike Island,” stay for “Grown Ups,” wave goodbye with “A Sunset,” and here’s hoping we see them come round again soon. —C.S.
Rochelle Jordan, Through the Wall
With Through the Wall, the British-Canadian musician Rochelle Jordan made one of the year’s sleekest and most sophisticated records: a ravishing love letter to house music artfully blended with odes to the cream of ’80s pop and ’90s R&B, all delivered in a silkily produced package that showcased Jordan’s meticulous taste. Far from feeling cold or forbidding, however, there’s a real warmth to every track, from opener “Ladida” which sounds like a forgotten club classic beckoning you onto the dancefloor with a velvet gloved hand, to “The Boy,” a lovestruck stomper on which you can practically hear Jordan’s heart thumping as she’s overcome by her crush on the guy she keeps seeing out on the town. Even at 17 tracks, Through the Wall never overstays its welcome—listening to it in full feels like spending a night bouncing around glamorous clubs, the kind of parties you never want to end. —L.H.
Rosalía, Lux
Have you ever had a breakup so heinous that you turn to God? That happened to my friend Rosalía once. The singer delivered her magnum opus this year, returning to her classical roots for Lux, an avant-pop record. With an assist from the London Symphony Orchestra, Rosalía plumbs the depths of heartbreak, femininity, and spirituality over 15 tracks—and 13 languages! The grand orchestral pop (the flurry of strings on “Berghain” comes to mind) is guaranteed to send shivers down your spine, but it’s Rosalía’s willingness to lay it all bare that makes Lux an all-time album. As she puts it on “Reliquia”: “Pero mi corazón nunca ha sido mío / Yo siempre lo doy / Coge un trozo de mí / Quédatelo pa’ cuando no esté / Seré tu reliquia,” or, “But my heart has never been mine, I always give it away, oh / Take a piece of me, keep it for when I’m gone / I’ll be your relic.” —H.J.
Rose Gray, Louder, Please
When I had the great joy of speaking to Rose Gray at the beginning of the year, ahead of the release of the first single from her debut album Louder, Please, she seemed a little uncertain about where the record would take her: after many years spent grafting in the music industry trenches, she had plenty of reason to doubt that her skilfully engineered pop bangers would ever find an audience. So it’s been a joy to watch her find that audience over the past year, playing to increasingly bigger crowds at summer festivals and garnering a cult following among pop connoisseurs. It’s well deserved, if only for how excellent Louder, Please really is: a genre-bending smorgasbord of pop past and present, grounded by Gray’s cheeky lyrics, infectiously enthusiastic energy, and ear for a killer chorus. Louder, Please may have been her breakout moment, but it certainly won’t be the last you hear from her. —L.H.
Sabrina Carpenter, Man’s Best Friend
“Oh boy!” That’s how Sabrina Carpenter kicks off the infectious first track from Man’s Best Friend, titled “Manchild.” And in many ways, “Oh boy!” perfectly describes her masterful seventh pop album as a whole. Leaning into upbeat, disco beats and cheeky, sex-positive lyrics, Carpenter redefines what it means to be a modern-day, campy (and often raunchy) pop star—making us often clutch our pearls in the process. Please have a listen to “House Tour,” for one: “I just want you to come inside,” she croons. “Baby, what’s mine is now yours.” Every single song is a bop that makes you—no, commands you—to get frisky. And in such a… turbulent year… Carpenter gave us the fun we needed. —C.A.
Safe Mind, Cutting the Stone
Do you like to dance? Even in public? If you dare, the duo behind Safe Mind, Cooper B. Handy and Augustus Muller, offer their debut album Cutting The Stone. Some may recognize Muller from Boy Harsher and Handy as Lucy, though on stage this summer for their release show at Music Hall of Williamsburg, the pair read like two real friends having fun in their dream band. It’s a little post-punk, a little electropop, lots of synth beats and lyrics that delight, and plenty of boppable hits like “Standing on Air” and “6’ Pole.” Opening the show with their atmospheric “Cutting The Stone” track felt surprisingly emotional, every subsequent song delivered the charming dance moves I was hoping for, and the crowd was full of IYKYK supporters like members of Nation of Language “working” the merch booth (which Aidan and Ian revealed when I approached to ask if they were performing). While the IRL scene was cool, at home, the album ultimately topped my Spotify Wrapped. Maybe because there’s nothing that I love more than music that gets right to the good part—at just 31 minutes, it’s the perfect length to loop. —Arden Fanning Andrews
Smerz, Big City Life
There’s a mysterious, open-ended quality to Norwegian alt-pop duo Smerz’s music that belies the remarkable precision of their songwriting and production—and on Big City Life, the duo flit deftly between genres (dream pop, glitchy electro, power ballads, shoegaze, even shades of trip-hop on album closer “Easy”) then whip up all these textures into a sonic soufflé that is uniquely their own. What made Big City Life really shine, though, was Smerz’s willingness to tackle big, overwhelming feelings, like woozy rush of being head-over-heels in love so beautifully captured on lead single “You Got Time and I Got Money,” the melody of which you could just as easily imagine being sung in a smoky 1920s Paris jazz club as at an underground club night in 2020s Berlin. It’s their ability to identify the sweeping, transcendent feelings that can come out of the smallest, most everyday moments—and capture them like lightning in a bottle—that lends Smerz their strange, special magic. —L.H.
Tame Impala, Deadbeat
Sometimes an album just comes at the right time. “Play the Halloween song,” my kids would say. “Gladly,” I’d answer and cue up “Dracula,” a spooky season anthem to dethrone all others, not a note of kitsch in it. Released a few weeks before Halloween, Tame Impala’s fifth album is filled with hearty beat-driven anthems for the whole family—the mom in the carpool lane mourning bygone clubbing years, the kids in the backseat chanting “run from the sun like Draculaaaaaa.” The album is a series of standalone hits with immediate appeal, but also layered with the kind of references that reward careful listening, like the Beck-riffing “Loser.” Tame Impala has drifted in and out of my musical diet over the years; Deadbeat put it firmly back in rotation. —Chloe Schama
Turnstile, Never Enough
You could describe Turnstile as hardcore punk for people who might not think they like hardcore punk: having burst out of Baltimore in the early 2010s, their breakthrough third album, 2021’s Glow On, saw them increasingly elide easy genre categorization, trying their hand at shoegaze and psychedelic rock and collaborating with the likes of Dev Hynes and Julien Baker. All of this culminated on their killer fourth record, Never Enough, which dropped in June and featured tracks like “Seeing Stars”—a dead ringer for an ’80s Sting synth pop hit—and the gorgeous album closer “Magic Man,” which sees lead singer Brendan Yates’s vocals soar above rippling, hazy synths, and nothing else. But worry not, they still have plenty of all-out rock bangers to keep their long-time fans’ heads banging: I defy anyone to find a better song from this year to stomp down a busy street to than the album’s thundering lead single. —L.H.
Water From Your Eyes, It’s a Beautiful Place
Nate Amos and Rachel Brown, the duo behind Water From Your Eyes, make music that feels like remembering a dream that you will dream in the future when you are something you don’t yet know. What that actually means is they have a knack for beautiful melodies—courtesy of Brown whose voice has a deadpan quality whether they are singing in sugary sweet melodies or borderline-rapping—and music that evokes various parts of the alternative era of the ’90s and early ’00s (remember alternative?). It’s a Beautiful Place is sweeping guitar rock, electronic-tinged Y2K haze, emotional landscapes born from string arrangements and dramatic pianos. With every new album, Amos and Brown expand their sound in ways both clever and devastating, wearing their references on their sleeves without sounding exactly like any of them. They are truly one of the most special bands of our current time. P.S. Make sure you check out This is Lorelei, Amos’s solo project. Holo Boy his latest release is chock-full of some of the year’s grooviest songs. —L.G-F.
Wet Leg, Moisturizer
Moisturizer, the follow-up to English band Wet Leg’s much talked-about self-titled debut album, is all about falling in love. But you’d be mistaken if you took that to mean the record would be any less angsty than its predecessor. Lead singer Rhian Teasdale writes about her new relationship with anxious exhilaration on “CPR,” and surrenders to her yearning on tracks like “Davina McCall”—which humorously references the British TV presenter and Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever” as a means to communicate her devotion—and “Liquidize,” a standout that manages to bottle up the intoxicating joy brought on by an early romance. Beyond the personal changes in Teasdale’s life, Moisturizer also marks a significant lineup change for the band, which went from being a duo to five-piece. As a result, the album delivers a more robust sound, which pairs nicely with their over-so- snarky lyricism, as evidenced by singles “Catch These Fists” and “Mangetout.” Overall, Moisturizer masterfully conveys the tension between all the emotions that come with falling for someone, convincing listeners that it just might all be worth it in the end. —Fred Sahai
Yung Lean, Jonatan
Yung Lean (Jonatan Håstad) was everywhere this year—on the red carpet promoting Romain Gavras’s Sacrifice, on Instagram covering “I Wanna Be Your Dog” at Charli XCX’s wedding, on podcasts, magazine covers—in addition to being in your ears via record player, digital streaming, or on tour. The artist, who is approaching 30, described Jonatan as an “unc” album, though it might be more accurate to say he was on a journey to unc-dom as this release seemed to capture him in the transition between his past and present selves. (A theme also touched on in 2024’s Psykos.) Rami Dawod produced and while I found the instrumentalization distracting at first, the vulnerability of Lean’s voice was irresistible. Apart from the recording, the addition of a band to live performances made the tour really memorable. —L.B-P.
