What We Loved This Year

Hi! Colin and Leah here. Welcome to our blog. First things first: a list of songs, albums, and shows we found rad in 2025. Commence—

Aaron Dilloway / Texas Chainsaw Massacre at Anthology Film Archives (March)
I don’t know if it was the election, my burgeoning early-onset midlife crisis, or the fact that my boyfriend and I started the year in a cursed apartment haunted by demons, but from January on I was determined to be out in the world. March was particularly stacked. I went to a talk at the Panorama of the City of New York, I saw Colin’s first show as Coolant at Cassette [Colin note: it was actually just my EP release show, but I do not want to insert myself too much in Leah’s memory], and there was a bunch of book stuff to attend. One Wednesday, I saw Ron Padgett read at the Poetry Project, got my grandmother’s copy of An Anthology of New York Poets signed, and went for beers at Tile Bar afterward with a bookseller I know and his young poet friend. Just two days later, I met my parents at Björk Cafe before heading to the Morgan for the Kafka exhibit, and to attend Michelle Woods’ lecture in Gilder Lehrman Hall. The lecture was on Milena Jesenká and Willa Muir, the women who first translated Kafka into Czech and English, respectively. There were slides like, “Language and Belonging” and “Language, War & Patriarchy.” I had to truly tear myself away in order to make it downtown to Anthology on time for the very special Tone Glow event: a 35mm screening of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre for the occasion of its soundtrack’s Waxwork release, preceded by an Aaron Dilloway set.

Dilloway is a legendary noise artist and this was truly wild like, holy shit. We were all chilling, chatting in our movie theater seats, I was with Colin and Larry and Arielle was over there somewhere and I kept spotting friends and ran into some old buds from college—Dilloway runs Hanson Records out of Oberlin (his wife was my anthropology professor)—and it turned out Ian had helped set the whole thing up, and then it was go time and Josh gave an intro and bam lights out. Pitch black in an old movie theater, no light but for two red bulbs swinging above Dilloway’s rig. I’m not even going to try to describe what it sounded like, but it gave me a crackling, swelling, emery paper feeling in my whole body. The tension inflamed until nearly unbearable and then it receded back whence it came. A hush and applause before the film began. This was my first time seeing Texas Chainsaw Massacre and what a way to do it… About a third through the reel started getting blurry and they had to change it over to a different projector which took a while but as we waited Dilloway did a little impromptu set and it was somehow both funny and moving. I think everyone there knew it was really a once-in-a-lifetime thing going on and the fact that it wasn’t all smooth made it even better. When it was over I ran into my old friend Adrian who runs Ergot Records and talked to Simon and Ian some more and met Josh and also ran into Sam and then some of us went down the street to Boiler Room for a beer. I was amped—instead of getting tuckered out, all the running around town proved restorative, vivifying. —Leah

Aim For The Bushes & Slow Bird at The People’s Patio (August)
One of my best friends, Theo, is in this pop punk / power pop band called Aim For The Bushes and every summer for a few years they’ve thrown a house show / party and play on the very clutch and insane second-floor outdoor space at his apartment in Bushwick. It’s called The People’s Patio. Our friend slash bartender Josh and his partner Jennae have a goth-y indie pop duo, Slow Bird; seeing them play outdoors really amps up the dark windsweptness of their vibe. I’ve seen AFTB a thousand times, but this was hands down their best show. Fully locked in. <3 —Leah

Bedridden, Moths Strapped to Each Others’ Backs

If there are any better riffs this year than the ear-bleeding Mascis-ian contortions that open up this Brooklyn band’s debut album, then they’re probably also on this record. An overstuffed record of guitar heroics that I would have adored in middle school, and still do. —Colin

Betty Hammerschlag, Forever Young
My friend Alex turned me onto Betty Hammerschlag by saying Forever Young sounded like “zoomer Grouper” and while it’s more than that I can’t really disagree. Mythic yet intimate, out-of-time yet of-the-moment, these songs feel obsessively worked over and effortless all at once. The sort of music I default to in any quiet moment. —Colin

BIB, Acaustix, Pure Terror, Ferment at TV Eye (April)
The Omaha, Nebraska-based BIB is one of my favorite bands of all time. They make music that’s sludgy and hazy, bright, loud, shimmering hardcore. They’re inspired by bands like Sodom, Black Flag, and Power of the Spoken Word. When I think of BIB it’s “The Fool” and “Pressure II” my mind conjures—songs that sound to me like the murk and splash of a lake in the middle of the night. Maybe you’re out in the deep in the fog in a dinky little boat and suddenly the water is getting choppy… They have that magic sauce. Energy at their live shows is insane. Serious vibe masters. The first time I saw them was in the Brooklyn Bazaar Cellar August 2018 (looking at Bk Bazaar flyers is wild btw… to think what we once had…), then finally again at Project Reach in 2023 (with Phantasia, Hotline TNT, and The Dare, who covered “Is This It” and people moshed). Literally almost flew to Chicago in February to see them play with Egyptian Lover at the Empty Bottle’s “Music Frozen Dancing” outside in the cold party. Wish I had tbh.

The night at TV Eye this spring, the whole place seemed to vibrate. Of the openers, Acaustix was particularly exciting. When BIB played, I went into a kind of trance. I was giddy!! After it ended my friends bought shirts, but I didn’t because I was (am) broke, which was a huge mistake because now every time I see one of them wearing theirs, I am overcome with envy and regret. Other than that though, it was a perfect night. GUYS, IF UR SEEING THIS. DO YOU HAVE ANY OF THOSE SPIDER SHIRTS LEFT? —Leah

Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
The reference points that fly around when this band of Brooklyn transplants talk about their music—Swans, Unwound, Women, Glenn Branca, Slint—are enough to give you an idea of what their whole deal is. Anything Can Be a Hammer is cathartic, chaotic, knife’s edge music, a layer of grime the only salve against its larynx-shredding intensity. It’s a debut with intense focus and purpose, and it feels like they’re only just scratching at their potential. I will say, also, I’ve been quite enjoying all the bands that guitarist Jeremy Mock plays in—the distressed indie rock of People I Love, Wesley Wolffe’s grim post-punk refractions, and his labyrinthine solo guitar work as Face of Ancient Gallery are all well worth your time too. Sorry if this is cringe but it’s an exciting time to be a fan of indie rock in New York City, I feel like I am seeing great new bands every time I go outside. —Colin

Cate Le Bon and John Cale, “Ride”
“I think it’s only John Cale who could make me cry so much,” Cate Le Bon said in an interview, about how she almost didn’t ask the storied Welsh artist to sing on her song. This is a dream link-up for me, two of my favorite artists who are very much in the same sonic universe. Here, they are like two earthlings who’ve found each other on an alien ship. (Did anyone, by the way, write any kind of anniversary thing about Cale’s Artificial Intelligence, which turned 40 this year?) —Leah

Chaparelle, “Playing Diamonds Cashing Checks”
Playfully classic-sounding country music from Zella Day and her husband Jesse Woods. Gamblers’ anthem is a winner—It’s just the four, to the one, to the five has such a rhythmic payoff. Immediately put on my running list of great songs about games of chance. —Leah

Child Star, “Stupid”
Since his fuzzy home-recordings on Double Double Whammy over a decade ago, Sean Henry has been one of my favorite songwriters—a reliable source of dream-logic indie rock, carried by a whispery voice and a knack for surreally specific emotion. On his 2024 album HEAD, he closed with a stark cover of the song the Lady in the Radiator sings in Eraserhead, which feels revealing of his whole approach—he’s reverent to all the classics of the unsettled and the macabre.

Child Star, his duo with Olivia O. of downcast indie rock band Lowertown, takes this approach and flips it—weaving this sinister undercurrent with homemade breakbeats and sampledelic guitar songs that ends up somewhere in the universe of Lou Barlow’s fractured take on ‘90s pop music that he released as The Folk Implosion. “Stupid,” the standout from their debut EP 9 feels, at turns, narcotized and desperate—twisted up string samples serving as the basis for a ballad of listless confusion. Shadowy and subdued, it’s not the sort of track that demands your immediate attention. But like much of both of their work outside the band, it rewards close listening, a song for sinking into and sulking through —Colin

Chuck Roth, watergh0st Songs
No one plays guitar quite like Chuck Roth. You can see evidence of this on his Instagram page, where he labs out strange extended techniques—bowing his strings with a carabiner, or even his own hair. He’s a true explorer, always in search of a stranger sound, even when he’s playing more conventionally. Melding the shattered Americana of off-kilter players like Tom Carter with slippery arpeggios that recall Midwest emo, his songs are full of sharp turns and stop-and-go rhythms—every moment feels unpredictable and alive. He’s released music over the last few years both under his own name and as watergh0st, but nothing has captured the magic of his stunning live performances like this year’s watergh0st Songs (released on fellow guitar idiosyncrat Bill Orcutt’s Palilalia Records). Each track is a dense tangle of spiderwebbing leads and dizzy melodies, paired with Roth’s vocals—strikingly confident and surprisingly mellifluous considering the intensity of the guitar playing—cutting a path through the brush. The record’s seven songs are all just Roth’s guitar and voice, stark and unaccompanied, but there’s little music released this year that’s as impactful and overwhelming. —Colin

Cities Aviv, The Revolving Star : Archive & Practice 002
Love how this has the quality of a sketchbook. Astral but grounded—like watching the sky when you’re high and the radio’s tuned to the soul station inside. But it also sounds like running around at night with a sidewalk-skinned knee. —Leah

Coolant, Bellcave, Fraternal Twin at Nightclub 101 (September)
Every year on his birthday Theo gets a bunch of friends together for brunch at Pies and Thighs and to walk across the Williamsburg Bridge with him—a really sweet tradition I was pleased to finally join in on. The hangover from his party the night before was mild but I wasn’t thinking exactly straight about the logistics: I was meant to see the full band version of Coolant on Ave A that very evening, and when we got to Delancey I realized it didn’t make much sense to go all the way home and come back, even though my phone was dying and I kinda had to poop from the chicken biscuit. I’m proud to say I made it work: I killed several hours walking around, going to the cute weed store, grabbing some books at Codex, barely touched my phone, and when I thought I was going to be dorkily early to Nightclub 101 I ended up being right on time. Full band Coolant is so fucking good—rock n roll baby!!! Colin is also now in this band Bellcave who are super fun and give me big 2010s DIY circuit energy. Notably, this was my first time seeing Fraternal Twin, they do such solid slowcore and are a true pleasure to watch. Overall 1000% good vibes and an evening I won’t soon forget—not because it was a big night out but because there was a sense of snug enthusiasm. I stopped at Ray’s Candy for a chocolate soft serve after and read my new Chesterton paperback on the train home. —Leah

Dean Johnson, “Before You Hit the Ground” Puts the golden sun sinkin’ into a song. Exquisite, and only gets more so halfway through when Johnson hits a stunning key change. Languid, gooey folk music by a longtime Seattle bartender with a stately mustache. —Leah

Debby Friday, The Starrr of the Queen of Life
I’ve been following Toronto artist Debby Friday since back when she was doing a raw industrial dance-punk thing on her debut tape BITCHPUNK. I had one of those moments where I was hesitant to listen to her new rave-forward sound. I was wrong, of course, because it’s sick. A great party album that hasn’t lost any of her “SEX! POWER! UNBRIDLED FEMININE AGGRESSION!” ethos. Glitchy-sweet at times, and at others giving Egyptian Lover. Is the moody synthpop finale “Darker The Better” hinting at a sonic evolution…? I’m tuned tf in regardless. —Leah

Djo, The Crux
Maybe it’s that part of my soul lives in Chicago, or that at heart I’m a basic ‘70s easy rock fan, but this really does it for me. Fleetwood, McCartney, ELO, Genesis referential mashup set on the Brooklyn-Chicago corner of the Paramount Studios backlot? I’m eating it up, babe. “End of Beginning” is a straight-up banger and, for the record, was on my shower playlist way before it had billions in streams or whatever. Never getting tired of that shit. I don’t love the rest of that album but The Crux I spin top to bottom. —Leah

Denevér, Economía Doméstica
Really good dark new wave made by two dudes with a drum machine living in Budapest by way of Chile. Think The Soft Moon or Boy Harsher energy—pummeling mechanic beats paired with alternatingly dreary and fiery vocals. The lyrics are forceful as well: about death, revolution, nothingness, memory, fast food, privatized land, heavy boots stomping. —Leah

Erika de Casier, “Delusional”

This song went a long way toward helping me understand my friends who obsessively check who watches their Instagram stories. —Colin

Esther Rose, Want
What can I say? I am a die-hard, day-one Esther Rose fan. She has a characteristic country-folk-rock sound that can be heard in songs like “Had To.” And then there’s “Messenger,” a new kind of thing for her, breathy, repetitive, mysterious. The whole album is almost psychedelic. The slide guitar throughout is so nice. Above all, there’s a tangible openness to her music that keeps me coming back. —Leah

Eyehategod at Brooklyn Paramount
I remember feeling pummeled by finally hearing this New Orleans sludge band’s songs as crushingly loud as they deserved to be, but as I write this, I more remember the merch line, which was long enough that I missed at least half of Acid Bath’s undoubtedly great set in order to purchase a t-shirt that features a raccoon holding a kitten at knife point. Worth it, I think. —Colin

Fib, Heavy Lifting
Julia’s War, the record label run by Doug Dulgarian of They Are Gutting a Body of Water, have a reputation of putting out a lot of shoegaze and noise rock, but they’re so much more adventurous than that. Case in point, this record by Philly-via-Portland band Fib, whose first studio album is an intricate take on post punk that’s all sharp angles and careening intensity. The writer Eli Enis compared them to contemporary guitar contortionists like Palm and Peaer, but I hear dustier, stranger takes on the genre—they sound to me like This Heat or Sun City Girls, songs that feel destined for a Numero Group box set a few decades from now. —Colin

Fraternal Twin, “Evil Eye”
Tom from Fraternal Twin is a friend and one of the nicest fellas in music, and my favorite show I played this year also involved me soundchecking this song on bass with them so I honestly couldn’t be more biased here but this is the song I’ve listened to most this year so it would be a total crime to not mention it. Historically Tom has written these sensitive, thoughtful songs packed with gentle melodies and little observations. While that’s still present here, it’s also full of genuine desperation and menace. It’s like a Codeine track, but where their songs are fit for floaty dissociation, “Evil Eye” demands you stare directly into the void. Witness the destruction, do not avert your gaze. And see Fraternal Twin live, this one’s a real highlight every time. —Colin

Friendship, Caveman Wakes Up
Is there anything more than this? This question echoes in every margin across Caveman Wakes Up as Philadelphia singer-songwriter Dan Wriggins sings about drinking beers, dreading work, watching an annoying roommate playing video games, waiting on the bus. Of course, no one answers back, but he finds the magic in these little moments. Each song feels like a sigh—it’s enough of a life anyway. —Colin

Havana Syndrome, “AI Brain”
Buffalo synth punks with a song about artificial intelligence that warms my soul how far from AI it sounds. No idea what the heck they’re saying but I get the gist. I’m a huge sucker for that cartoonish whirligig sound. —Leah

Her New Knife, “Pagan Poetry” (Björk Cover)
An EP of remixes showed the range that this Philly band’s serrated take on shoegaze can be twisted into. But this early 2025 cover of the Vespertine ballad shows they enters other realms entirely, wrenching it into something that’s at once both intimate and otherworldly, sensual and mythic. The sort of song that makes you think there might still be uncovered ground left in this whole shoegaze thing, even with so many kids trying their hand at it over the last few years. —Colin

Hudson Freeman, “If You Know Me”
Perhaps a result of spending countless hours in middle school watching guitar tutorials on YouTube, I have a lot of affection for the nimble-fingered players riffing straight into camera who fill my Instagram reels in between clips of shirtless bodybuilders and Mormon rappers (at the risk of revealing too much about the insanely cursed videos the algorithm has decided I want to watch). A lot of this stuff is really show-off-y nerd shit. Watching some random Berklee student play jazz fusion improvisations on a double-necked guitar is the same kind of thrill as watching someone juggle, where it’s, like, okay cool, now what?

I have to admit—being kind of allergic to the bald gesture of self-promotion—I’m a little put off by the whole thing. But I’ve also come across some real songwriters who work in this medium: sensitive, dreamy stuff like Anikka Kilkenny; threadbare vulnerable stuff like Kate Stephenson; foggy, otherworldly stuff like Jake Minch. The best of the bunch though is Hudson Freeman, a Brooklyn-based songwriter who’s been whittling away for years at an idea he calls lo-fi folk. Think Bill Callahan or Red House Painters or Adrianne Lenker’s raggediest songs, coated in tape hiss and slow-boiling static. His breakthrough song this year “If You Know Me,” was something of a sensation because of the many, many videos he released playing its riff—a slack, downtuned, loping miracle that kind of sounds like Duster playing the blues—in various outdoorsy environments. For a minute, it felt inescapable—even John Mayer offered up a version of the riff on his own channels—but this is the kind of song I would have been drawn to, even if it hadn’t been thrust upon me by Instagram. Disaffected and scuffed by serrated distortion, the studio recording is the kind of grimy, bitter song that could have gotten him signed to a major label in the post-grunge gold rush. Who knows, with his demonstrated ability for taking something so strange and making it resonate with the TikTok kiddos, that might just happen anyway. —Colin

Hurricane Wisdom, Perfect Storm
Prolific teenage Florida rapper Hurricane Wisdom clearly imagines himself in the mode of some of his home state’s greats. He has a knack for pensive emoting that recalls his hero Rod Wave, a colorful gift for wordplay that was clearly formed in the same waters as Kodak Black, and an irrepressible energy that recalls his Pompano Beach peer (and collaborator) Loe Shimmy. Perfect Storm, his early 2025 project, finds him swirling all these influences with soul-baring sensitivity and a knack for gloomy melodies delivered that sound like they might dissolve at any moment into a sternum-rattling sob. Guest spots abound, as they do on many post-breakout data dumps, but they serve here to show how well Wisdom can hang with both established stars (like Polo G) and fellow fast-risers (like Raq baby). Only bigger spotlights await, and if I can play fantasy A&R for a second, I’d like to get him in the studio with Justin Bieber, once he’s done palling around with Dijon and Mk.gee. —Colin

Instupendo, Ripstupendo
Pop songs for the eye of the storm, made by a trio of producers that have—between the three of them—worked with a who’s who of contemporary rappers and pop stars including Future, Trippie Redd, Chief Keef, Lil Uzi Vert, and, uh, JVKE. I’ve always kinda dreamed that any of the Drain Gang producers would make a straight-up ambient album—this is close enough. —Colin

Iris Our, Victual Vittle Bottle Cunt
Scary sexy ghostly grubby fleshy breathy experimental sound poetics project. Penned and performed by “surrealist duo” Kiera Mulhern and Sydney Spann, engineered by Katie Von Schleicher and released by Recital. Very wet, stormy, full of holes—punctures, perforations, mouths, nets. Weirdly soothing even as it buzzes, churns, twitches, and trudges. —Leah

Jawdropped, “Outside”
I wasn’t that familiar with this Los Angeles fuzz-pop quartet until I saw them play a show in the Spring with Bedridden and Shower Curtain. I realized pretty quickly into their set the bill was a perfect fit, they too are slack motherfuckers whose vision of indie rock places a prize equally on riffs and emotions. This lovelorn single is the highlight from their April EP of the same name, an ode to outsiderdom—one that knows that the best parts of life are in the margins with the freaks. A booking agent bud of mine told me at the show that everyone in the industry was angling to work with them at the time—I don’t have any intel on how that played out exactly, but the attention shows there’s power in doing your thing. You won’t always be on the outside, unless you want to be. No shame in that either. —Colin

Jupiter Ensemble, Lea Desandre, Anthony Roth Costanza at The Frick (April)
2025 was the year I got into Handel, thanks to this very exclusive event at the opening of the Frick Collection’s brand new concert hall. I already wrote a whole thing about it for my fave classical music mag, so I won’t go too long here. In short: transcendent. I didn’t know Handel got so quirky with it; some of the songs they played were stuck in my head for weeks after. The ensemble (lute, violin x 2, viola, cello, bass, harpsichord, continuo organ) and mezzo-soprano Desandre looked like they were having a blast. Such shimmying! And when countertenor Costanzo sang the new Nico Muhly composition in front of St. Francis in the Desert, I swear the whole room was transported. My dad and I walked to the 6 train in disbelief and were barely bothered when we discovered the 68th St. Station was closed. —Leah

Kurt Vile & Pixes at Brooklyn Paramount (July)
The day of this show, I was so deep in a panicky dissociative spiral that I almost didn’t make it, despite the fact that I was meeting my boyfriend in LA a day later, so I could go. Obviously, I’m glad I did, lol. I hadn’t seen Kurt Vile since he’d played the tiny stage at Oberlin’s Dionysus Discotheque (and famously walked out because people were talking during his solo set…), and it was cool to see him and his Violators in such an impressive venue. (The Paramount is wild.) Between sets I ran into some friends from the bar which was really nice especially because it meant I didn’t have an existential meltdown during the Pixies, which is something that definitely could have happened considering my mindset and the fact that I hadn’t listened to Bossanova or Trompe Le Monde (they played both all the way through) since my twenties, and hadn’t totally remembered how much this music affected me when I was like, 16. I actually forgot that I loved “Dig for Fire” and “Havalina” and “Alec Eiffel”...that’s crazy. Basically, what could have been a depressing time of wimping out due to mental illness or feeling too intensely about the passage of time turned into a lovely night shared with some sweeties. I wore my Laurie’s Planet of Sound t-shirt which has the Lincoln Square zip code on the back (60657) and this guy told me he used to live around there. —Leah

The Lemonheads, “58 Second Song”

In the best way possible: This sounds like a Lemonheads song. Masters of ‘90s jangle pop, god bless. Really cozy, but with that slight edge, a little anxious buzz, like something might be a bit wrong offscreen. —Leah

Lipsticism, Wanted To Show You
Chicago electronic artist introduced to me by the one and only Angel Marcloid, a frequent collaborator who also mixes and masters her albums. Lipsticism’s music sounds both frosty and sweaty. Cloudy, precipitous, sharp as ice. Frozen and cracking—but melting and dripping, too. —Leah

Molly Nilsson, “How Much Is The World”
Turn to Molly Nilsson for a song about capitalism and the global cost of living crisis that is straightforward, simple, specific, and full of her very big heart. —Leah

Multiple People (multiple times)
I’ve known Alex Clements since I was in high school and he was working at the coolest record store in Orlando, Florida. In the years since, I’ve seen him perform in formats and bands that he’d probably prefer I’d forget, and it’s been really cool to watch him settle into his new moniker Multiple People, an unapologetically earnest project that weaves together all his disparate interests—swooning slowcore, early ‘00s radio rock, glitchy IDM distortions. He has a unique way of playing these songs live, though it’s easy enough to imagine him playing them full band, for various reasons I’ve only seen him play them knelt behind his laptop, whispering into a microphone, but something about this minimal setup feels so intimate and real. I’ve seen him do a handful of little tricks during these sets—he scratches a chain he wears into a microphone, he winds a piece of yarn through the crowd (a comment I’d imagine on connection and community), and I think one time I saw him play Jenga on stage (not sure exactly what he meant by this). You never know exactly what you’re going to get, which is part of the fun but these strange setups never detract from the fact that Alex is always there pouring himself out on stage, prostrated as in prayer, alive for a moment. —Colin

Nabeel, ghayoom - غيوم
For my money, the best of this current batch of sincere shoegaze revivalists is made by a high school English teacher in Virginia. As Nabeel, Yasir Razak has released a handful of singles and EPs over the last few years, singing entirely in Arabic over slow-moving walls of distortion and distortion that evoke the more pop-minded side of the genre (think Drop Nineteens and Swirlies), rather than the pure noise. This lighter approach suits the personal touch of the music—ghayoom - غيوم is vulnerable by design, expressing “longing and loss and beauty and fear” as a rebuttal to what he sees as the “machismo culture” of the Middle East. Shoegaze, traditionally, has been seen as a mask against feeling these sorts of things directly—the British bands who shaped the genre looked at their feet out of fear, or, some critics say, out of apathy, but Nabeel’s music is different—a vision of the genre that prizes connection, empathy, and community above all else. —Colin

Newport Folk Festival (July)
Newport Folk Festival is basically the only festival I ever even consider going to—I started going when I was an impressionable teenager with a big thing for Bob Dylan. It’s very romantic, there at Fort Adams, jutting into Narragansett Bay. I stayed with my aunt and uncle in Wakefield, and my aunt drove me to the Jamestown ferry in the mornings because she is an angel. Aside from the lineup being freaking stacked every year, there’s also the taking the ferry to get there that endears it so to me. It was really hot that weekend, but luckily I remembered my floopy hat and my water bottle, and my tiny tube of sunscreen. It’s fun to go to these things alone, and I felt like a true pro. I made some friends in the media tent, including this kid who confused me by asking one zillion questions about freelancing until I realized he was literally 21 and working for his campus radio station. (He told me his professor told him never to do copywriting. I said, “Welllllll…….”) There was a thunderstorm right when Jessica Pratt was supposed to play, which was a whole thing with shelter warnings and such, and I hid in the Fort with a bunch of people which was like an adventure until it got boring. But then MJ Lenderman went on right after the storm and that was beautiful. I hadn’t seen him play before and was quite taken. Also, on a ferry ride to the festival one morning I saw some dudes on a dinghy with a sign saying they were selling “Himbo Dome” coffee. They were waving the sign at the ferry as though we were somehow gonna like, climb down and swim over and order a latte from them. Cute though.

What I did not like: Yeah Yeah Yeahs (no to the whole strings/acoustic schtick), Alex G (sorry but huge yawn!) [Colin note: he put on one of the best shows I saw this year but to each their own], Remi Wolf (a “friends” set that was mostly covers… she brought out John C. Reilly which was fun, but I wish she’d done originals).

What I liked: S.G. Goodman, Kim Deal, Waxahatchee, Mon Rovia, Obongjayar, Dan Reeder, Luke Combs (walked to the ferry line after singing along to “When It Rains It Pours,” a truly great song that I am evidently not alone in appreciating), Cameron Winter (literally didn’t even realize he was the frontman of Geese at this point lmao, they also played but I was chilling in the tent for it *shrug*).

What I loved: Big Freedia (omg… incredible), MJ Lenderman, The Lemonheads, Tyler Ballgame, Public Enemy (they did a Dylan went electric 60 years ago “Like A Rolling Stone” bit… unreal). —Leah

Nine Inch Nails at Barclays Center
I have never heard an arena full of people scream the words “fist fuck” before. This justified the price of admission alone. Also resulted in a fun conversation with my dad about listening to The Downward Spiral on CD while driving his coworkers around in his car in the 90s. They didn’t like it then, but the freaks have won. —Colin

Oldstar and Truman Sinclair at Union Pool
I feel a kinship to Oldstar, a quartet of very nice-seeming boys who, like me, have moved from Florida to Ridgewood, Queens. After seeing them open for classically minded folk troubadour Truman Sinclair over the summer I have been seeing them every chance I get, so consider this entry a stand-in for every one of their sets I’ve caught since. To me, they sound like if the American Analog Set were a country band but last week at another one of their shows, Leah leaned over to me and said they reminded her of Defiance, Ohio. Maybe they too saw them play on a weird farm in St. Augustine in 2011 like I did, folk punk is very Florida-coded for better or worse. Anyway, they’re the best band in the neighborhood now, and I will probably see them one million more times next year. —Colin

Planning for Burial and Midwife at Warsaw
This was part of a bigger Flenser showcase but these two sets were really spellbinding to me—one crushingly loud, one intimate and emotionally intense. It reminded me of the power of contrasts on bills and that some of my favorite shows I’ve ever played were with bands that sound nothing like me. No more five-band hardcore matinees—put the ambient act after the death metal band, blow some kids’ minds. —Colin

Pluto and YK Niece, “Whim Whammie”
The kind of song that makes me miss living in an apartment where my windows rattled all summer from cars with big-ass soundsystems. —Colin

Puñal, Buscando La Muerte
Gorgeous, nasty, classic 1-2 punk from Mallorca. Back-of-the-throat vocals as if dude is about to hock a loogie. I LOVE that ha-ha-ha-ha trickster demon laugh. Sounds like the dirty pavement, sounds like sneaking out of mom & dad’s house with a 7UP bottle full of vodka, sounds like a big fat crush. Also, I’m obsessed with the album art. —Leah

Sabrina Carpenter, Man’s Best Friend Add Sabrina to the roster of former Disney kids I ride for (Miley, Ariana, Aly & AJ). The Betty Boop x Polly Pocket schtick, the Goldie Hawn reference, the Nardwuar interview, the whole thing with the scandalous cover of Man’s Best Friend—I’m so in. She had me with Short n’ Sweet and this is like its sequel: sparkly, earnest, wry, confident. It’s got range and personality. —Leah

Shallowater, God’s Gonna Give You a Million Dollars
This self-styled “dirtgaze” band from Lubbock, Texas traces the links between the gloomy detachment of ‘90s slowcore and the bottom-of-the-bottle depression of classic country music on their latest full-length. I was tipped off these guys a few years ago by fellow former resident of the Texas panhandle Hayden Pedigo. So it’s especially cool to hear him pop up on the record’s closing track “All My Love,” a slow-motion ballad that plays like alt-country at half-speed, or if Bedhead had really leaned into their Dallas roots. Few better records this year to play while you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling. —Colin

Sharp Pins, “Sycophant”
Technically a 2024 release, but I’m counting it both because of a 2025 K Records reissue of Radio DDR and because this is our blog and there’s no rules. Kai Slater was best known before this year as a wunderkind guitarist for teenaged Chicago post-punks Lifeguard, and his work as Sharp Pins couldn’t be more different. Largely it’s tape-distressed power-pop and warbly garage-psych, but there’s also moments like “Sycophant,” a lilting yet bitter ballad that feels scarred by loss and grief. I wouldn’t lightly compare anything to Elliott Smith’s Either/Or, but this song does it for me—stark, lonely, and totally confident in its unsettled emotions. It’s all the more striking nestled in with the record’s sprightlier moments—a breath and a sigh between all the joy. —Colin

Shinetiac, Infiltrating Roku City
This sort-of-supergroup of producers in the West Mineral Ltd. universe returns with a jittery collage of gooey new age music, digitalist dub, slow-motion trap refractions, blurry breakbeats, and sensitive guitar pastorals. It’s ambient music addled by internet-era ADHD, each placid moments of peace quickly disrupted by rippling static and twisted up samples. Each new idea arrives like a stone plunked into a pixelated sea. —Colin

Shlohmo, Repulsor
I spent nearly the entire 42 minutes in the fizzy fog of this album trying to figure out whether or not I really did see Shlohmo at short-lived, notorious Williamsburg club Output. According to my research the event was on March 7th, 2013—Oberlin spring break was not to happen for another two weeks. So I can’t have been there… I would have instead been trudging to class through Ohio winter… I would’ve been busy with my radio show and my Nabokov response papers and drinking splitchers at the ‘sco… and my senior thesis… which was about “memory” in the works of Kafka, Borges, and Saramago because of course it was… and yet I swear I remember… twirling to find my friends in a dark, staticky room with high ceilings… —Leah

Sister Irene O’Connor, Fire of God’s Love
Profoundly vibey album made in 1973 by an Austrialian Catholic nun with an electric organ. Mixed and recorded by a fellow sister, and reissued officially this year by niche archival label Freedom to Spend. Opener “Fire (Luke 12:49)” is a bop. —Leah

Snuggle, Goodbyehouse
Like a lot of Denmark’s most acclaimed musical exports over the last few years, Copenhagen duo Snuggle’s music feels pillowy and comforting, each loping breakbeat and fuzzy guitar line a warm embrace. But few have employed these sounds for something as biting and unapologetically gloomy as Goodbyehouse, a ten-song collection of muddled feelings and paeans to our dying world. It’s the exact midpoint of ‘90s Cocteau Twins and the Flenser’s downer rock—two real sweet spots for me, but not ones that I ever imagined might overlap. —Colin

Soup Dreams, Hellbender
I have this old sweater that I wear all the time as the weather starts to turn. There’s giant holes in both armpits, and a sleeve that runs a little more every time I wear it. I’m going to love it to death. Listening to Soup Dreams’ debut album Hellbender kind of feels like that—with every play, the quartet’s distortion-scoured feels like it’s coming further undone. Eyes watering, throat raw, needles firmly in the red, singer-guitarist Isaac Shalit finds beauty and comfort in messy emotions and frayed yearning. —Colin

Spencer Radcliffe, Ohio Vision
Spencer Radcliffe’s long been a genuine inspiration to me—both his guitar music and the low-key ambient music he makes as Blithe Field always feel homespun and obsessive, the result of a person tinkering away from the world. I’m always drawn toward people like that, who feel insulated from what’s going on in music and just do their thing, seemingly for the joy of it. I saw him play again last year, opening for Horse Jumper of Love, and that version of his band felt a touch more extroverted—loose, loping, a little more country. It was a good look for him and this surprise record on Owen Ashworth’s Orindal Records captures that energy. It’s windows-down, rolling-through-the-midwest type music, but hung on the skeleton of Spencer’s idiosyncratic approach to melodies and strange sense of humor. The slack energy makes it a good entry point for those who’ve not yet, but there’s still enough of the genuine weirdness to separate it from any of the twangy bands who sound sorta similar. I’ve been listening obsessively for a weekend and I can tell I’m going to be listening to it for a long time to come. —Colin

Teethe, “Magic of the Sale”
A guitar line to make me weep. Stops me in my tracks every time. —Leah

They Are Gutting A Body Of Water on a rooftop in Bushwick (October)
I find it heartening that this generator gig happened in the first place. TAGABOW, a hip shoegaze band from Philly, have a cult following and I thought it was going to be a total shit show, due to being free with RSVP and also on a rooftop in Bushwick. Amazingly, it was not. It was totally calm, and everyone was being cute and respecting each other. My friend Jen and I even met a couple of youths, they were adorable and shared their whisky with us. Someone set off fireworks, and even though they hurt my ears I had to give kudos for the moxie. —Leah

Tony Molina, On This Day
I sent this album to the Bellcave groupchat yesterday and Eddie, who’d never heard Tony Molina before, got it immediately. “Here’s an idea that would warrant the most interesting 5min song you’ve ever heard,” he said. “Fuck that, here’s another one.” Perfection in miniature. —Colin

Tyler Ballgame at Union Pool (November)
Dude came seemingly out of thin air with one of the best live presences I’ve ever witnessed. He’s got one of those stretchy voices—a Roy Orbison, Harry Nilsson, Angel Olsen type voice. The music is retro soul/rock but fresh. I can’t put my finger on a corollary; it sounds classic but new. That’s a cliche, but true. He signed to Rough Trade after a bidding war, and it seems unlikely he’ll ever play a room as small as Union Pool again anytime soon. I love that the room at Union Pool feels underground, hidden, and that the stage is a red velvet curtain backdrop framed with bulbs. I love how you can watch the singer from the mirror above the bar. It’s like out of Lynch, and everyone who plays there always seems to fit perfectly. Tyler Ballgame was obviously no exception. He doesn’t even have an album out yet and already filled up that little room with bellowing fans. He’s really engaging and has exceptional timing. On the way home, I listened to the album advance and as I went to sleep the songs played buzzing in my head. My favorite is “Sing How I Feel,” which isn’t out yet. But I like this pared down live version, from when he opened for The Decemberists. —Leah

The Whisky Biscuits & Leon Sinks at Jones Bar (July)
My friends slash faithful bartenders are in two great country-rock bands. The Whisky Biscuits has three vocalists and three guitarists and they’re staples at 11th St. Bar and Skinny Dennis and they’ve got every weekend at a new place called Desert 5 Spot. Suffice to say they’ve honed the craft of getting a real good singalong dance party going. Leon Sinks is Michael Patrick’s band, they don’t play as often, so when they do, I try to go. All Hell, the debut album they put out last year, is excellent—boozy, heartsick, sassy. Once I told MP his album is really good, and he told me not to tell him stuff like that. But it is.

The bf and I weren’t planning on doing much of anything for July 4th this year, but then we heard the boys were playing Jones Bar, which is a great bar over by Fresh Pond Road that has a little stage in the back under a portrait of George Jones, the bar’s namesake. The last time I was at Jones Bar, an enemy of mine practically spat at me, and the time before that my ex was there lurking, but thankfully neither were present on this occasion, and all was well. Have you ever been to a show with a whole bunch of your friends to see your friends play, and everyone knows all the words and sings along? I highly recommend. The boys were great, and Leon Sinks did the best “Love Song” (fan fave) they’ve ever done. —Leah

Wicca Phase Springs Eternal, Mossy Oak Shadow
It makes so much sense to me that the dude who went from Tigers Jaw to GothBoiClique would make a country album. In 2018 I saw Adam Andrzejewski fka McIlwee at Irving Plaza, on a bill with Vein and Code Orange, and I was so fucking confused LOL. After that, I got with it and I’ve liked pretty much every Wicca Phase album. Honestly though, this might be my favorite. It doesn’t sound like a bit or a put-on, it sounds like Wicca Phase Springs Eternal made a country album—the gawky comfort of his voice nearly tripping over itself to fit a line in remains, as does the a-portal-opened-and-now-here-I-am underdog adventurer persona. This time it’s like Merlin sent him a-time travelin’ on a magical stumbling steed to the Old West and they got lost in the PNW mists. The song with Ethel Cain sounds like goth Willie Nelson ft. goth EmmyLou Harris, and it’s quite beautiful. It opens like this: What if I met you a mile from the mill? / By Elian’s Hollow, or Hanover Auto, or Broken Heart Hill? / What about the Draft House, baby, what about The Bog? / What about the canyon, or East River Hamlet, or back at the barn? —Leah

Yuasa-Exide, Hyper At The Gates of Dawn & Go To Hell Encyclopaedia Britannica
I am always waiting to stumble across something like Yuasa-Exide, the fuzzy lo-fi project of a Minnesotan called Douglas Busson. The story I’ve read on the blogs is that Busson has been a Twin Cities noise/experimental scene stalwart for decades and, after a spinal injury a few years ago, started recording songs from bed as a kind of pain-channeling exercise in distraction. He named the project after a battery factory he used to pass by as a kid. There are now over 20 of these outsider rock albums, teeming with tongue-in-cheek pathos. These two were released this year, along with the comp If You Don’t Like The Weather: Yuasa-Exide Primer 3. It reminds me of hearing Guided By Voices for the first time. In fact, I texted Colin “found this robert pollard ass minnesota dude,” with the link to “I Don’t Like Outer Space,” from the end of Go To Hell Encyclopedia Britannica. Except, I already like Yuasa-Exide better than GBV. From these two latest albums, it’s Britannica I find myself playing the most, and its finale “Slacker Continuum” that gets stuck in my head. But I love Hyper At The Gates of Dawn a lot, too; it’s got this dense, spirally atmosphere. Sometimes sharp shimmering chords gleam through. Also the titles are funny, and Simone Weil is on its collaged cover. I’m still acquainting myself with the rest of the catalog. It’s like being let in on a secret—no, better—like making a new friend in a new town, and they know all the good hidden spots and take you to each one and it’s thrilling in this casual familiar way. You visit the secret nook, you meet the regulars. A whole world opens up. I feel really lucky and excited. —Leah

Zack Darsee & Elise Houcek, Tara, Stephen Hill at Honey’s (November)
I hadn’t seen my friend, the poet Zack Darsee, in 12 years, and then suddenly they were in Brooklyn to read from their new book, From the Pocket of Agent Dickinson, written word-by-word with the poet Elise Houcek, which, as I understand it, is about a CIA agent who’s dosed with psychedelics and gets really into cooking. According to the flyer, there was to be a dinner by artist Stephen Hill, and when I asked what that was all about, the answer was, “you may be afraid of the food.” Behind the spread of mezcal worm pasta, eggplant with krill, bread, and barnacles (beautiful, fishy, delicious), the artist Tara-Jo Tashna sat at a laptop in the red light by the barrels, looping vocals over found sound—a hypnotic performance rooted in research about the place where we stood. Soon after, Zack and Elise read in tandem from Agent Dickinson, and it was really funny, lovely and strange. Where is my email?! Where am I absolutely coming to now? I could have watched them read for hours. Instead, they played eight absurdist culinary videos based on the book’s flipped-out recipes. Unreal. —Leah

Zoya Zafar, “Body Count”
Stripped-down, heartsick miseribilia that floats with the headstrong, self-assuredness of lo-fi icons like Julie Doiron and Emily Yacina. Zoya’s a friend and we played a show together this year—and this song came out on House of Feelings, who have put out some of my ambient music—so caveats abound I suppose, but it’s a genuinely moving song and I hope a sign of more to come soon. (Also worth your attention: the playfully dour video, which finds director CC Hancock going Bushwick Bergman). —Colin

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