50-31 | 30-11 | 10-1

10. Imperial Triumphant – Goldstar

[Official site] // [Bandcamp]

In the ’60s, figures like Les Baxter and Martin Denny gifted their audiences the illusion of sounds from another world: aural experiences that seemed to unravel mysteries from the darkest corners of the Earth, from outer space, from uncharted realms altogether. I often wonder how the godfathers of Exotica would react to Imperial Triumphant.

There are no secrets anymore. How could there be, when anything and everything is a click away? We’ve been brutalized into the hive mind, anesthetized by sheer opulence. It’s gross, decadent; the act of consuming art has become a monster devouring itself in denial. That is exactly what Imperial Triumphant sound like.

That Goldstar is their most accessible album says everything. It’s grotesque and relentless, save for the occasional jazzy detour or skeletal intro, but at heart it’s still a quasi-death metal spawn packed into nine tracks of absolute madness, wrapped in an art deco package for your visual pleasure.

The New York triumvirate have had quite a year. They’ve released one of their most brilliant works to date, toured the world treating the masses to a spectacle of champagne and laser beams, all while playing like a well-oiled bulldozer. Reading the media call this “catchy” is almost funny — and deeply unsettling. What the hell have we become?

Leave it to IT to usher you into the horrors and ecstasies behind doors we were never meant to open, to make you dance to the frenzy beat of some warped cabaret waitress kissing your forehead with rotten breath while your nose sinks into her decaying tits. Goldstar conjures these images in my cadaverous brain, but who knows what other eldritch or carnal visions it summons in each of you. You really had to push this into the top ten. Fools! –Dewinged

9. Coheed and Cambria – Vaxis III: The Father of Make Believe

[Official site] // [Spotify]

Opener “Yesterday’s Lost” wouldn’t do much to have me believe that Vaxis III: The Father of Make Believe would be one of the most catchy and fun Coheed albums in recent history, but by god, follow-up “Goodbye, Sunshine” makes sure to hammer that point home. Coheed have been a bit of a musical chameleon throughout their careers – from the post-hardcore scene to heavy, melancholic radio prog, to full on pop prog, to settling into a heavily ’80s and arena rock influenced prog rock band writing a literal sequel to “Jessie’s Girl”. But perhaps no part of that identity was shorter-lived than The Second Stage Turbine Blade’s post-hardcore with that aggressive punk edge: an unrivaled distinctiveness of Coheed’s identity that would’ve been at the bottom of my list of expectations for their latest studio album.

Well, here we are in 2025 and the likes of “Blind Side Sonny” and “Searching for Tomorrow” are here to run back into the pit with you and throw Claudio’s superb mane into more than a few eyes. Even among the “Continuum” quartet of tracks that close the album, there’s a pacing and passion driving an energy that feels as fun as it does contagious. While previous outings have dialed the tempo down and focused on longer compositions, the upbeat and uptempo on so much of The Father of Make Believe is a welcome return to the Coheed catalog. The energy simply feels tight, authentic, and fun.

And, alright, part of that is still leaning into those more common Coheed habits. “Someone Who Can” has some serious “Boys of Summer” inspiration, while the “Continuum” set plays out a lot of Coheed’s prog epic tendencies – albeit with a little more edge and urgency than in recent years. Some familiar motifs and tones play out specifically within the suite as well, but it all lands intended: an elevation of a signature sound that fits in just as well on The Father of Make Believe as in previous Coheed entries. –AtomicWaste

8. Oneohtrix Point Never – Tranquilizer

[Official site] // [Bandcamp]

I have not listened to a lot of electronic music. I’ve heard a little bit from a few of the bigger names in the space, but never fully dove into the endless amount of subgenres the electronic umbrella has to offer. It can be quite the intimidating pool to dive into. I don’t really understand the fine nuances of what makes a release truly excel, nor can I accurately describe the technicalities or nitty-gritty details of the music itself. I suppose that is part of the beauty of exploring new genres of music: it’s something you just feel without second thought and let the sounds wash over you.

This was very much my experience with Tranquilizer. From the first listen, I knew it was something special. It instantly connected with me, even if I didn’t fully understand what made it so great.

What I appreciated most was the amount of variety across the tracks, from dense ambience soaked in cold desolation to gorgeous, lush soundscapes befitting a tropical paradise. “Waterfalls” perfectly represents the latter, and may be the most technically impressive track on the album, with its layered textures and ability to juggle so many different sounds and ideas into a cohesive song. For as much as is going on in any singular song, it never feels scattershot. It’s intricately laid out, with every sound, noise, or sample feeling intentional. Tranquilizer feels like the dictionary definition of controlled chaos, constantly keeping you on your feet. Thousands of different sounds clash throughout the album, sometimes for mere seconds, yet it still flows naturally with a sense of tranquility. Knowing that Daniel Lopatin has scored films before, it’s hard not to hear Tranquilizer through a cinematic lens, each track guiding you across moving pictures on the big screen.

Highlighting the more sparse ambient spectrum is my favorite song on the album, “Cherry Blue”. It exudes a picture-perfect icy and lonely atmosphere suited for dark winter nights that we are currently in. The introduction lays that foundation with muffled fuzziness and stark, pointed piano drops that strongly reminded me of one of my favorite artists, Tim Hecker. From there, the song rapidly picks up before fading into eerie synths and briefly relaxing, only to build toward an explosive finale — a wonderful cacophony of everything that came before, capped by a haunting, wavy melody that gently plays you out in a haze.

Tranquilizer is an album that has a way of leaving you completely transfixed and transports you into a different headspace conjuring vivid imagery in your mind. It is a true experience, and by the conclusion you feel you just went on a journey and returned somewhat different. That’s what makes our bond with music so special: it’s something you feel deep in your core, even when you don’t fully understand it. –Futures

7. Rosalia – Lux

[Official site] // [Spotify]

Lux is the sort of album that is capable of converting even the staunchest detractor. Case-in-point: I was never a Rosalia fan (I even found Motomami to be very ordinary despite the copious amounts of critical acclaim that were heaped upon it), I do not generally enjoy classical music or opera, and being able to relate to lyrics has always been music’s primary appeal to me. As a classical pop opus that sees Rosalia singing in fourteen different languages, Lux heavily adopts all of the things that would normally push me away from an album. Despite the odds being stacked against it, I love Lux dearly and find it to be one of the most stunning and cathartic works of the current decade. True art transcends language and moves us to feel something deep inside – something that unites us on a basic human level. Lux does exactly that. I’ve listened to the record dozens of times already since its November release, and I still have no desire to look up the lyrics. To me, it can only ruin what Lux already means, and all the beautiful emotions that I associate with its hauntingly elegant atmosphere. Perhaps I couldn’t phrase it better than Morgan Freeman already did on The Shawshank Redemption: “I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don’t want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I’d like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can’t be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it.”

Lux makes its impact on multiple levels. On the surface, it possesses Rosalia’s usual pop charm and is flawlessly produced. Even just the way she annunciates and inflects on “Divinize” digs its hooks into your memory with little to no effort. The grandiose melodies on “Sexo, Violencia y Llantas” and especially “Berghain” are the stuff magnum opuses are made of, and do a lot of the heavy lifting in terms to get Lux praise as Rosalia’s crowning achievement. Dig a little deeper and you’ll find moments that float idly in the background, but provide the crucial foundation on which these flashier moments are built: take the lonely bells that chime in the distance on “Magnolias”. At its core, though, Lux is simply a vocal masterclass. Rosalia’s voice absolutely soars here, while also lowering itself to subdued but equally exquisite notes when needed. If there is one song to sell this album to anyone, it’s “Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti”, which is hands-down the most sublime and celestial performance I’ve heard from any artist in recent memory. Against a practically naked atmosphere, Rosalia pours her soul into her performance in a way that stays with you long after the track expires; proof that the most powerful musical instrument in the world remains the voice of an angel. Lux places Rosalia front and center, a single beam of light shining down upon her, and empties the stage of unwanted distractions. The results are more beautiful than anyone could have predicted. –Sowing

6. Clipse – Let God Sort Em Out

[Official site] // [Spotify]

Who can come back after a 16-year hiatus and put out their best release yet? That would be Malice and Pusha T, my friends. Clipse picked back up like they never left. With production handled by longtime producer and friend Pharrell Williams, the boys spit some of their hottest bars. Yes, it is coke rap at times, but it’s much more than that also. The tribute to their late parents, “The Birds Don’t Sing”, is especially emotional, and goes to show that, lyrically, it’s not all about drugs. They can be vulnerable and still manage to flow freely and perfectly. The production throughout is fantastic, with less of a sense of club bangers and more of a focus on one cohesive unit. Push and Malice, even in their late-40s and early-50s respectively, prove that they’re still at the top of their game. Malice has barely rapped in the past decade and a half and he even outperforms Push at times. The chemistry between these brothers is off the charts and Let God Sort Em Out is proof that they have never lost it. –Hawks

5. La Dispute – No One Was Driving the Car

[Official site] // [Bandcamp]

No One Was Driving the Car is a cinematic masterpiece. Inspired by unrelated macabre events and influenced by his upbringing, Jordan Dreyer’s nested loops layer haymaker after haymaker throughout his narrative. Composed of five acts incrementally drip-released until the LP’s September release, Dreyer’s storytelling weaves religiosity, local business and geography, social inequality, and personal history through a vast array of integrated lenses. Album highlight “Environmental Catastrophe Film” is one of manifold examples, where pollution runoff and damming of the Grand River having dire consequences is intertwined with predestination, dogma, and trauma. Although the river’s ecosystem has been remediated with time, Dreyer is unambiguous in asserting that physical and spiritual blight remain. Meanwhile, “Top-Sellers Banquet” and “Landlord Calls the Sheriff In” putting (sc)Amway’s multi-level marketing scheme, and by extension crony capitalists like the DeVoses, in the proverbial crosshairs is strikingly poignant in spotlighting exploitation (“And they’re all in awe of it / Here standing with the pyramid tip above … / Praise Jesus for the gospel of more / And for the kingdom of eternal reward”; “It’s a ladder, not a pyramid / We’ll pull you up a rung / You’ll be the base of our foundation here / We’re only building up”). Divine right through opulence and excess at a self-congratulatory reception might lack emotional resonance — that is, until the rapture begins. While a more malevolent crescendo and climax from the guitars and percussion might have intensified the song further, Dreyer’s spoken-word delivery parallels the detachment the song’s documentarian must feel behind the camera while filming the lavish gala. Dreyer’s cinematography metaphor appears in multiple songs throughout the album, including the rumbling, bass-heavy “Man with Hands and Ankles Bound”, title track, and pastoral closer “End Times Sermon”. Allusions to the apocalypse abound, and distraction is disengagement, yet the journey provides disquieting comfort.

Compared to their past two records, Chad Morgan-Sterenberg, Corey Stroffolino, Adam Vass, and Brad Vander Lugt sound massive — distorted discordant riffs alongside clean arpeggios and strums ring clearly, the drums and cymbals are deftly mixed, and mercifully, no ‘bottom of the well’ Will Yip-produced vocals for Dreyer, either. Similar to “Landlord”‘s sonic palette, the Slint-like “Steve” is a post-hardcore burner about childhood friends and the contradiction of unconditional election and irresistible grace in Calvinism with suicide (“I almost believed we would enter in elected when we died / Carried by the ‘U’ and the ‘I’ in the ‘TULIP’ … / Both our names circled twice”). “Steve”‘s emotive final minute is prototypical La Dispute catharsis, with mesmeric guitars, immersive snare and cymbal work, and soaring vocals leading to a palpably purifying feeling — similar sentiments take hold in “I Dreamt of a Room with All My Friends I Could Not Get In”. This notion of absorbing, being, or being released from burden is echoed in the psychedelic blues-infused “Autofiction Detail” and the latter half of “Siblings Fistfight at Mom’s Fiftieth / The Un-sound”. These diametric forces — joy and fear, community and estrangement, transformation and alienation, natural versus artificial worlds — are skillfully interlaced with the pervasive apocalyptic undercurrent, ruminations about (and running out of) time (“Our lives go only forward and we die”; “Even time itself grows old / And we do too / We only grow forward”), and social and environmental justice. In addition to all the proselytizing interludes, the record’s companion site further enhances La Dispute’s world-building. Despite its beefy runtime, No One Was Driving the Car envelops and entrances you throughout each act, and its tremendous cavalcade of genre-shifting curlicues goes toe-to-toe with Wildlife as La Dispute’s best.

4. Ethel Cain – Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You

[Official site] // [Spotify]

Ethel, you emotional, beautiful soul: the sheer depth of Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You is not to be understated. The atmosphere of dream pop, droning ambience, gorgeous vocal performance and the twangy Americana bits make for one hell of a ride. This album is a culmination of her prior two releases, blending the Southern Gothic vibes with the more spaced-out ambient bits, making one feel unusually romantic. The lush atmosphere will grip the listener beyond belief and make you feel as if you’re churning butter on a farm in Amish country. Ethel’s ability to convey these feelings just proves why she is so acclaimed nowadays and she deserves every bit of success that comes her way. –Hawks

3. The Callous Daoboys – I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven

[Official site] // [Bandcamp]

For all my criticisms with modern metal and how it’s fairing these days, one consistent good to come from the scene is in the way some younger bands are experimenting with this non-regional sound that draws from a slew of different styles and genres. I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven slips right into that superlative approach to writing – the linchpin of the record being metal so it can anchor the wildly disparate arsenal of ideas on display here. The end result is an electric, schizophrenic, neck-jarring peregrination, bursting at the seams with a uniquely feral unpredictability and omnipotent rage. A labyrinth of mind-bending sounds; it is songwriting that absorbs a deluge of styles and turns it into one gloriously off-kilter experience.

If I were to pigeonhole their sound into one succinct description for first-time listeners wanting to know what The Callous Daoboys sound like, on the whole, it’s an erratic mix of the capricious The Dillinger Escape Plan songwriting style, complete with the band’s distinct abrasive dissonances, with the driving melodic hardcore of Glassjaw. But this parochial analogy is ultimately a disservice to what the band really produces on this album, which is excellent and interesting music. At the very least however, you have some idea of what you’re coming up against. The likes of “Two-Headed Trout” is a fantastic combination of off-kilter instrumentation and the kind of astute catchiness you’d hear from the more mainstream, melody-centric metal bands, almost as if it’s the band taunting the superficial elements that plague contemporary metal. The end result from the great chorus and that goofy-ass organ makes the listener feel a little uneasy with the recipe. And yet, it’s this lateral thinking that makes I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven not just one of the best metal albums of 2025, but one of the best albums of 2025, period. –DrGonzo1937

2. Deftones – private music

[Official site] // [Spotify]

Deftones are the gift that keeps on giving. Ten albums into their career, they managed to reach new peaks with their latest affair, private music. They are a band who have never fallen out of fashion, entrancing each new generation through their unique sonic dichotomy. For each dirty, low-tuned riff there is a beautiful melodic chord progression, while the vocals range from chaotic screams and shrieks to dreamy croons. Of course, in recent years they dialed down the aggressive side, bordering a lot instead on moody moments. Nevertheless, the punch is still there, as Stephen Carpenter continues to seemingly add a new string to his guitars with almost each release. private music isn’t anywhere near their heaviest material, but it offers more thrills than their recent records. Teaming with Nick Raskulinecz again was a brilliant decision, as he perfectly understands what the band needs at this stage of their career in terms of production. The songs share a lovely aural lushness, especially the more harmonious ones such as “I think about you all the time”, “departing the body”, “milk of the madonna”, “~metal dream” or “infinite surprise”. The latter is one of the most infectious tunes in their discography, Chino’s vocals flowing like honey. His voice feels refreshed on this album, most likely due to his sobriety. Lyrically, he is just as cryptic as always, however, there are multiple reflective verses here. On the other hand, Moreno does provide a dose of raucous vocals on “my mind is a mountain”, “ecdysis” & “cut hands”, but it’s clear they are not the focal point on this LP. Perhaps the only sort of throwback to their earlier days is “cut hands”, boasting rapped verses and nu-metal tinged guitar riffs. Overall, private music is one of the best Deftones albums and even of this decade so far. –insomniac15

1. Deafheaven – Lonely People With Power

[Official site] // [Spotify]

I still remember where I was when I heard Deafheaven for the first time. I was finishing up my senior year of high school, sitting in the library during study hall, browsing the popular metal-oriented blogs of the time on a laptop as I usually did. There was this song called “Dream House” that was taking the internet by storm, attached to an album cover that was almost entirely pink. There wasn’t a site I visited that wasn’t raving about it, so I had to check it out of pure curiosity. I was completely blown away — I had never heard anything like it. I had listened to some of the classic black metal bands in the past, but this was an entirely new beast. It felt completely fresh and further sparked my growing appreciation of music as an art form.

Blackgaze, of course, existed before Sunbather, but that album broke containment and catapulted the genre into the metal cultural spotlight as “the next big thing.” It was undeniably harsh, yet widely accessible thanks to its melody, emotional immediacy, and clear song structures. That cross-genre appeal made it an easy sell, and in the years that followed, the genre reached heights few niche offshoots of black metal ever do. Slowly but surely, though, things began to feel familiar. Release after release leaned on the same quiet-loud dynamics and towering crescendos, with more than a few blatant Sunbather ripoffs mixed in for good measure. At this point, the once-burgeoning sound feels largely exhausted, its distinct creative spark relegated to endless repetition.

In the years since Sunbather, Deafheaven have continued to release undeniably strong material, but their creative trajectory has often felt like a back-and-forth. New Bermuda reads as a direct response to critics, an effort to prove the band could be heavier and more traditional in their riffing. Ordinary Corrupt Human Love plays like an attempt to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle moment of Sunbather, while Infinite Granite was an obvious creative experiment, stripping away nearly all of the band’s metal elements.

Lonely People With Power is Deafheaven returning with an entirely renewed fervor, seamlessly weaving together elements from all of their previous albums into a singular, definitive experience. The band’s greatest strength lies in their songwriting. The way they juggle their eclectic influences into something cohesive is simply remarkable and is something that could only come from the mind of Deafheaven. Dreamy, reverb-soaked tremolos sit alongside blast beats and venomous screams as a foundation, which the band then remixes through pop-oriented song structures. There is a perfect balance of soft and heavy, calm and anger. A strong post-punk streak runs through the album, accentuating the power of the heavier elements. “Heathen” exemplifies this, pairing an absolutely cathartic screamed chorus with a jangly, Johnny Marr-esque melody to create something jawdroppingly catchy yet still retaining all heaviness. “Body Behavior” follows a similar formula, with an infectious, upbeat rhythm section and massive hook that compels movement. If you strip away the screams and blast beats, these are just dreamy post-punk songs at their foundational level. This is a lesson in how to combine the strengths of metal and pop together as one, fully fused at the heart to craft something that transcends both entirely.

Deafheaven have a unique skill in draining every emotion out of you. Lonely People With Power is anthemic, devastating, furious, depressing, and gorgeous — sometimes all at once. There is no song more emblematic of this than the perfect comedown of “The Marvelous Orange Tree”, which sees the band at their most ethereal, using careful post-rock builds to deliver bombastic crescendos and breathtaking soundscapes that stand in fascinating contrast to George Clarke’s ferocious vocals. Every instrument works in perfect tandem. Kerry McCoy’s riffs and melodies are the work of a master with real versatility, from the magical, cascading tremolos of “Amethyst” to the hefty, thrashy licks in “Doberman” and “Revelator” that prove Deafheaven can still write a riff fiesta with the best of them. The drumming drives the album relentlessly: blast beats punch in the mix, while softer double-bass patterns create a foreboding sense of what’s coming. Clarke’s tortured wails might be my favorite part. He combines visceral acidity with precise control, choosing when to enunciate clearly and when to unleash a deathly roar that lingers. McCoy may be the glue, but Clarke has that “it” factor that elevates Deafheaven to an entirely different pedestal.

It’s incredibly rare, but sometimes a piece of music comes along that reminds you just how special this art form can be, reigniting a passion you thought had faded. Lonely People With Power is that album, awakening the same nostalgic sense of wonder I felt when I first heard Sunbather. It feels as though every Deafheaven album has been leading to this moment — a deadly concoction of their strengths distilled into one ambitious, intricately constructed statement. It more than earns its hour-long length, with ambient interludes binding the record together as an experience worth returning to in full. I’m confident Lonely People With Power will stand the test of time, and when all is said and done, it will be remembered as a serious contender for album of the decade. For now, it stands as an ideal representation of what music in 2025 can achieve. –Futures

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