Part 2: The Top 5 Albums of 2025.

Part 1, in case you missed it, is here.

Here are the albums that, for me, truly succeeded in what they were aiming to do, whatever that was: evocation of pure mood and atmosphere, winding up a remarkable multi-album psychological journey, being cheerfully upbeat, distilling the chaos of current times into a few powerful ideas, or simply existing despite all odds. Albums that are compelling, evocative, astonishing, and/or just plain enjoyable.

Everyone who knows me and is familiar with my reviews (and my current ongoing biography) were probably pretty sure what I’d choose for top spot, and they were indeed correct—but it was no runaway romp. It took a lot of thought, and the gap between No. 1 and No. 2 is very small indeed.

In reverse order:

5. Kauan: Wayhome  (atmospheric ambient post-rock/metal from Finland)

Kauan are an outfit that originated in Russia in 2006 but by 2021 had moved to Finland. Over several releases their sound evolved from doom metal to the atmospheric post-rock they are noted for now. Several of their albums have been built around concepts: Sorni Nai (2015) explored the Dyatlov Pass Incident, Ice Fleet (2021) tackled a story about a mythical ship found abandoned in Arctic ice, and this one, Wayhome, is rather more metaphysical, focused on transformation; perhaps this partly reflects the fact that in 2024 the band underwent an almost complete change in lineup.

Wayhome is basically one continuous piece of music; there are section names (but no actual breaks). Each part has a double-barreled title, providing somewhat different or alternative ways of thinking about the mood of the pieces (for example: embrace/repel; arrive/resolve). The music is mostly instrumental, featuring textured atmospheric soundscapes; vocals pop in and out along the way, sometimes clean but often growls and always in Finnish, which makes them part of the ambience. Even though there are no pauses between them, with each section the musical emphasis shifts—we feel consideration, hesitation, forward impetus. This gives the album structure and momentum.

Wayhome is more strongly post-rock (that is, rather fewer metal elements) than previous albums, and very much ambient in its mood, but it does have some nicely heavy sections; the overall feel is lush, cinematic and atmospheric with repeating themes that build and shift in intensity. It stays fairly contemplative for most of its length. It isn’t as strong as Ice Fleet but it is compelling for all that.

Key sections (not really tracks): “leave/let go,” “haste/ascend,” “embrace/repel”

 

4. Witchrider: Metamorph  (stoner rock from Austria)

This album—or rather, EP (it’s only 26 minutes long) is a great example of “you never know what you’ll like until you hear it.” Witchrider are under-the-radar stoner rock guys from Graz, Austria, whom I’ve known about since their first album (2014’s Unmountable Stairs). I found them pleasantly listenable if not outstanding, but in the intervening years something happened—Metamorph has taken a big step forward.

The EP consists of six concise, cheerfully melodic, tight and riff-heavy stoner rock tracks, showcasing a new—or at least greatly improved—talent for song craft that wasn’t quite there on previous releases. There are no weak tracks on this EP at all, no filler, no wasted moments that I can hear, just rock the way it should be: heavy in the right way, chugging and upbeat, and to be honest a nice diversion from the intensity of the rest of this list. I really do love it.

Key tracks: “Used to Be a King,” “Wake Me Up”

 

3. Seeming: The World (alternative dark post-punk from the US)

This was a late addition to my list, not coming out until early December when everything else was well-established in my listening brain. I wanted to wait for it before deciding on my final list, because I know Seeming, and their (his?) albums are always worthwhile: and I am glad I did.

Seeming is mostly the project of author and music theory professor (Ithaca College) Alex Reed, with occasional input from Aaron Fuleki; however I’m not sure how much if anything Fuleki contributed to this release. It feels very solo to me.

Reed can be directly political in his ideas and has been (see: his remix of “Molotov” from Front Line Assembly’s WarMech album), but not here. This is a very intimate release, quietly contemplative in message (if not necessarily in music).

The world these days might look and feel like a broken place. It’s backwards, distorted, distressing, and it feels, so often, as if no-one understands what is going on.

The World reminds us about what is important: love in all its myriad forms, finding it in unexpected ways, the agony of losing it. But more than this: that there is hope and determination for a better future, grounded in what connects us: sunsets and moonlight, silence and song, taking chances, fighting back, holding on to each other.

The album is a bit of a grower. But when it took root it set in hard, much harder than I expected. Musically, the album is rich and orchestral, full of synths and strings and horns, more electronic and darkly gothic than post-punk, really. Reed’s vocals are more soaring and passionate than I’ve ever heard him before. There are beautiful moments, powerful imagery:

I wish that you could see the dream that I had

Where you were the bay full of turtles and whales

And I was the moon

I thought it might end up even higher than number 3, but alas the last three tracks are a bit too similar in feel and atmosphere, and break the mood. Otherwise: love, hope, determination in the face of despair and the dissolution of expectations–hold on to them.

Key tracks: “Zebra Tramples Horse Trainer,” “Any Other World,” “Winterlight”

 

2. Cardiacs: LSD  (genre? It’s Cardiacs. From the UK)

LSD is an album I was absolutely not expecting; if its arrival was not completely out of the blue (I assume there were fans who knew of its coming) it sure took me by surprise—as far as I knew, Cardiacs as a working entity had ended in 2008 with the devastating residua of Tim Smith’s heart attack, and definitely with his death in 2020. And yet, here we are.

The album is monumental, and the story around it is just as impressive. It’s seventeen tracks and almost 90 minutes long, and the physical release includes an 11-page closely-typeset booklet explaining in breathless excitement and excruciating detail how the album came about. I can give only the briefest of summaries here; for more details (on the album and Cardiacs in general) check out essays in The Quietus (whose writers love Cardiacs), or recent longer reviews.

LSD was begun in 2007, meant as a follow-up to 1999’s Guns. It got written, demos made, and Tim recorded guide vocals for a few tracks. One single (“Ditzy Scene”) was released, and then the next year Smith was felled in his tracks and so, it seemed, was the album.

In 2020, Tim Smith passed away. In 2021 his brother (and Cardiacs bassist) Jim Smith took the proto-album in hand and decided that it was time to finish it. Kavus Torabi (the band’s guitarist) was also heavily involved; they gathered up former colleagues and new contributors, most notably Mike Vennart (formerly of Oceansize) and Rose-Ellen Kemp, who were tapped to tackle the most difficult part of all—replacing Tim’s idiosyncratic voice and vocal delivery. They worked with the existing tracks and Smith’s notes…and lo! in 2025, we have an album whose impact seems to have reached far beyond anything Cardiacs released back when they were a going concern.

So … (to coin a phrase), wot’s uh the deal?

Well, when I finally got to hear the whole thing, I was blown away. I honestly did not expect it to be So Damned Good. Truth was, the album that had so far held top spot, the one whose position had seemed so unassailable, was facing some serious competition. Somehow, Tim Smith, one of those few musicians to whom the appellation “genius” may truly belong, had reached beyond the grave (with the help of family and friends) to give us this one last marvellous thing.

LSD is indeed Cardiacs—which of course makes sense given that Smith had done most of the work on it. It’s all there: songs that teem with a relentless cascade of ideas, the psychotic, psychedelic pop songs, the time changes and densely packed sounds galore, gentleness one moment, raucous insanity the next: this album is authentic at its core.

It does sound like later, 1990s Cardiacs rather than early. It is stronger than Guns (although I think that album suffered in part because of proximity to its staggering predecessor, 1996’s Sing to God). It does run the gamut: from the lush, orchestral opener “Men in Bed” followed by two purely-Tim Smith pop songs that flow directly from one to the next (“The May”/”Gen”) through the beautifully melodic “Spelled All Wrong” and the astonishing instrumental “Busty Beez,” a masterwork in gloriously unbearable rising intensity.

And then there is “Skating.” It is just so…Cardiacs, the seemingly random, unexpected complexity, chaotic ideas from all directions—but make no mistake: every note, every thought is tightly controlled and exactly placed because, well, Tim Smith. I still have no idea if I even like this song, but I just keep playing it. If that makes any kind of sense.

How does it rank? I think it’s almost pointless to try and make it fit with the rest of the discography. It is both completely Cardiacs, but also not quite. There is no doubt that the lack of Smith’s vocals is a detriment, even if the vocal lines are indubitably his. It is also easier on the ears: Smith’s production was often hard, bright, verging on harsh at times; that is what makes it difficult to get through the behemoth Sing to God in one sitting—it is just sonically wearing. That said, I think production on LSD is a bit too restrained. It could pop more. And speaking of Sing to God—no, LSD doesn’t reach those heights. But since so very little does, that’s hardly an indictment.

Key tracks: “Men in Bed,” “Busty Bees,” “Skating,” “Volob” but really, almost any of them.

 

1. Lunatic Soul: The World Under Unsun (heavy trance/oriental/prog from Poland)

Since I have already written an extensive review of this album, I won’t be going into details here. Clearly The World Under Unsun managed to survive the challenge of LSD, but it was close.

Simply put, TWUU is deeply and emotionally resonant. It is an intensely intimate album lyrically in ways I can’t reveal; musically it is, well, Lunatic Soul, which from the first time I heard it thoroughly occupied a fundamental part of my being, and I can’t imagine ever living without it. The album has a conceptual grandeur far beyond anything else in the list: it weaves together all the threads spun by the other albums in the project, finalizing a musical endeavour I’m not sure exists at this scale in prog (or anywhere else)—in other words, in vision and scope it exceeds anything released this year. I remain astonished at what the Cardiacs album accomplished, but it doesn’t have the breadth and depth, nor the deep feels, of TWUU.

Key tracks: “Mind Obscured, Heart Eclipsed,” “Hands Made of Lead,” “Self in Distorted Glass” but several others are cornerstone examples of Mariusz Duda’s vision.

A final observation. While promoting The World Under Unsun Duda would often wonder whether listeners have the willingness to stick with very long albums. Given the reception to both Cardiacs’ LSD and TWUU, each of which is about an hour and a half long, his fears may be misplaced. Length is not the issue: make a great album, and they will come.