The Best Records of 2025

A few of them, anyways

Against my better judgment, I still post on X.com.

The place is an incontrovertible sewer, full of racists, sycophants, and bots, and I will forever loathe Elon Musk for his systematic destruction of a website that once meant a great deal to me. But the fact remains that that website did once exist, and I once invested a considerable portion of myself into it. I’ve been alive for 33 years, and I’ve been on @ian__grant for 17—over half my life. Whether I like it or not, it is a historical record of my time on earth.

Were I a wiser man, I would nuke the whole thing. Surely, no good will ever come of my younger self’s idle thoughts. Unfortunately, I’m too much of a sentimentalist. There’s something romantic about it to me, this accidental diary composed of emotional outbursts, mental flotsam, and ticky-tack. Occasionally, I find myself scrolling backwards through the years, peering as best I can through these small, misshapen windows into a life that once belonged to me but no longer does. This, more than any other reason, is why I remain active on the site: not to reach others today, but to reach myself tomorrow.

One of my earliest posts, and still one of my best

Such is the purpose of this exercise. Though I no longer ~keep up~ with the new music scene to the extent that I once did, I do still, well, listen to new music. Some of this music corresponds to what’s appearing on other year-end list, but some (most?) does not. If I want future me to remember what it was like to live and listen through 2025, it’s up to current me to make it plain.

So here they are: the best records of 2025—a few of them, anyways. I’ve only heard a fraction of the albums released over the past 12 months; consequentially, this list is incomplete. Consider it a portrait not of the contemporary music ecosystem, but rather, of my music ecosystem.

10. Neil Young & The Chrome Hearts: Talkin To The Trees

It should go without saying that this is not actually the tenth best record released in 2025, but I did just rank it tenth on a Best Albums of the Year list, so here I am saying it.

Unlike Bob Dylan, octogenarian Neil Young is a diminished creative force. Most of the songs on this album consist of lazy moon/june rhymes delivered atop Intro To Guitar-level chords patterns. Two of the ten tracks—fully 20% of the material here—are rewrites of “This Land Is Your Land.” One of them, “Lets Roll Again,” may be the worst song Neil has ever written: “If you’re a fascist then get a Tesla / If it’s electric, it doesn’t matter / If you’re a Democrat, then taste your freedom.” It’s difficult to believe this is the best anyone can do, let alone Neil fucking Young.

But apparently it is, and here he is doing it. There’s something inspiring about it all, writing and recording and releasing songs so bad they make listeners question whether the good stuff was really ever that good in the first place (it was). The title track and “Thankful,” two quiet, tuneful ballads working in the Harvest Moon palette, are reason enough for the rest of the record to exist.

My my, hey hey, rock and roll is here to stay—whether or not we want it to.

MORE: “Talkin To The Trees” discussed in depth on Never Ending Stories

9. Benjamin Booker — LOWER

A totally unexpected reinvention from Benjamin Booker, and an object lesson in sticking with artists—even the younger ones—over the years.

His first release in nearly a decade, LOWER bears little resemblance to the punky blues rock Booker made his name on. The sound is situated somewhere around the muddy nexus of rock, electronic, hip-hop, and punk—and even that feels like an incomplete descriptor. Songs are dark, stripped-down, beat-forward, but still raw, warm, and emotional. Dispatched with all my preconceived notions instantly and continues to surprise.

Think “love songs written by Death Grips” and you’re not far off.

MORE: my interview with Benjamin on Jokermen

8. Dirty Projectors — Song of The Earth

On the note of radical reinventions: see David Longstreth’s madcap orchestral cycle Song of The Earth.

Released under both his own name and that of his long-running band, Song of The Earth calls into question the relationship between an individual artist and their collaborators. Certainly, this is music from the same mind behind Swing Lo Magellan and Bitte Orca; just dig those ecstatic YEAH YEAHs on “Gimme Bread,” bounding out of the stereo with all the gusto of a horror movie jump-scare. Instead of a ruddy indie rock palette, however, what follows is an hour-plus of horns and strings and flutes—lots and lots of flutes.

It may seem imposing from afar, but in reality Song of The Earth is compulsively listenable. It’s a vibes record, as unlikely as that may seem. Just let it roll from the top and look out the window, as Longstreth and co. reproduce the wonders of the natural world through intricate, extraordinary orchestration. Just don’t hit shuffle.

MORE: my interview with David on Jokermen

7. Ariel Pink — With You Every Night

His first LP since becoming an indie rock pariah, Ariel Pink’s With You Every Night is a poignant reminder of all we stand to lose from the intermingling of politics and popular culture.

It is almost certainly too late for Pink to salvage his career. For the liberals that once made up most of his audience, his endless stream of right-wing hooey has permanently stunk up the joint, while the groypers and Fox News aunts that might be attracted by such statements are too brain-damaged to find anything of value in art. If he were to mount a comeback, however, it would start with something like this: a smooth collection of indelible hooks and pop-rock pastiche.

After all his antics, I can’t begrudge anyone who has permanently stationed Pink on the “pay no mind” list. At the same time, I can’t pretend I didn’t devote years of my life to this man and his idiosyncratic musical vision. It worked for me then, and it works for me now, as much as I may be loath to admit it.

A useful exercise in separating the art and the artist, if nothing else.

MORE: my review of “With You Every Night”

6. Big Thief — Double Infinity

The first Big Thief record of their post-imperial period, and maybe their best yet.

After nearly four years away—an eternity in Big Thief time—Double Infinity landed with a thud a few months ago, dismissed as slight, cringe, and/or uninspired. It was a clear departure from the totalizing, dead-simple brilliance of Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You; as such, it was bound to disappoint. Some critics claimed Double Infinity was a preview of a diminished future for Big Thief, particularly in light of bassist Max Oleartchik’s departure, which may or may not have had anything to do the genocide Israel continued to prosecute throughout 2025.

This, to me, seems to be a clear misreading of the album. While it’s true that Double Infinity is a smaller, messier collection of songs, this wasn’t an accident. After losing a founding member, the band was faced with a choice: limp along as if nothing had changed, or blow it all up and become something new. Fortunately for us all, they chose the latter option. They are searching for a new sound. I have no doubt they will find it.

Double Infinity is a snapshot in time, a portrait of a rock band in flux. Big Thief is no longer what they were, but neither are they what they will be. How exciting.

MORE: my review of “Double Infinity”

5. Wednesday — Bleeds

Just a great rock record: nothing more, nothing less.

I missed the boat on Rat Saw God a few years ago, willfully ignoring the unanimous album of the year for no reason in particular. How glad I am that I rethought this approach. Karly Hartzman was born to front a rock band, and the loud/quiet/loud sequencing on Bleeds is balanced to a tee.

“Phish Pepsi” is the funniest song I’ve heard in years.

4. Bob Dylan — Through The Open Window: The Bootleg Series, Vol. 18

If The Bootleg Series were an artist itself, it would be on the oldies circuit.

34 years in, we’ve been graced with the most audacious entry yet, a content-dump of breathtaking breadth charting the evolution of a young Robert Zimmerman into Bob Dylan, the gunslinger poet. It’s all here, from homemade acetates to party tapes to cutting room floor material from Columbia Studios. Recording quality varies wildly, but that’s sort of the point. As a great man once said, quantity has a quality all its own.

Essential stuff for any and all Bobheads out there, even those (like me) who have had their fill of the early days. One of the most satisfying listening experiences I can remember, even as I barely made it through once. I’ll be coming back to this one for years.

MORE: “Through The Open Window” discussed in depth on Never Ending Stories

3. Destroyer — Dan’s Boogie

As much as I’ve loved any of the albums discussed so far, three stood out above and beyond them all. This, in a sense, is where this list really begins.

Dan Bejar is the most predictable man in rock songs. Every two-ish years, he returns with another sublime collection of tunes, embarks on a worldwide tour with his murderous backing band, then disappears into the mists of British Columbia until he’s ready to do it all over again. I’ve been tuned into this cycle for well over a decade—2013’s Five Spanish Songs, 2015’s Poison Season, 2017’s ken., 2020’s Have We Met, 2022’s LABRYNTHITIS—and it has yet to disappoint. It sure didn’t this year.

A streamlined package showcasing the many different sides of the Destroyer project, Dan’s Boogie sustained me through the long, slow winter of 2025. There’s something here for fans of any iteration of the band: the entry-level Kaputt listener (“Cataract Time”), the late-era electronoclast (“Bologna”), the Rubies nostalgist (“Sun Meet The Snow”), and more. And for us Destroyer omnivores? It’s a veritable cornucopia. We are eating.

Another brick in the wall of the most consistent discography of the 21st century. I can’t wait to hear what’s next.

MORE: our interview with Dan on Never Ending Stories + my review of “Dan’s Boogie” on Aquarium Drunkard

2. Cass McCombs — Interior Live Oak

A sprawling, casually ambitious double LP that serves as both a summation of a 20+ year career and an accessible point of entry point for any and all newcomers.

Cass is one of the 21st century’s great songwriters: direct, obtuse, emotional, cerebral, poetic, profound, wickedly funny, and many more adjectives besides. He’s also, in his own quiet way, a rock star. Catch the man live and you’ll clock it right away, as soon as he peels off one of the mondo riffs that forms the backbone of so many of the tracks on Interior Live Oak. “Priestess,” “Who Removed The Cellar Door?,” and above all “Asphodel:” these are some of the very finest rock songs money can buy.

A major statement that went criminally overlooked by most publications, as almost every Cass record is. Put this one on in the car, hop on the freeway, and just cruise. Doesn’t matter where, as long as its in California.

MORE: our interview with Cass on Never Ending Stories + my review of “Interior Live Oak” on Aquarium Drunkard

1. Geese — Getting Killed

Of course it is.

So much has been written about this band recently, it feels pointless to even try to come up with anything more. Surely, whatever I have to say has already been better said somewhere else. I might have even been the one to say it.

In the context of this extremely minor, entirely subjective list, the most I can offer is this: it takes a lot to get me to listen to a new band at this point. I’ve heard all of it—or almost all of it—before, and if I haven’t, I probably wouldn’t like it. So to not only devote a considerable amount of time to a new release from a new artist, but for said release to also be the best album I heard all year, and by some margin? It’s a remarkable thing.

Fitting, for such a remarkable record.

MORE: Geese and the Getting Killed Tour discussed on Never Ending Stories