January
If Paleface Swiss had waited just a bit longer than the third day of 2025 to drop CURSED, you probably would’ve been hearing about them way more readily throughout the year. Not that this wasn’t ultimately the biggest breakthrough they’ve ever had, but the combination of nu-metal, deathcore and plentiful other strains of modern metal would earmark them among the scene’s top talent with a bit more breathing room. Regardless, it was a strong start to the year, the sort of album that has the entertaining edge that metal of these stripes tends to forgo. They’ve got a follow-up EP coming right at the start of January 2026, so clearly they’ve not learned anything from this, but at least CURSED is a meaty bit of prior encouragement to check it out.
The rest of January’s metal quotient wasn’t nearly as radical, though in the case of Tremonti’s The End Will Show Us How, it doesn’t mean there wasn’t some enjoyment anyway. It’s very much in the vein of Tremonti’s established ouevre—protracted, expansive radio-prog-metal that leaves its fair share of fat on the bone—but technicality on its own can do a lot in the right circumstances, and this is just about there. If nothing else, another helping of Alter Bridge 2 is preferable to new All That Remains, even if Antifragile is better than Phil Labonte’s last few tantrums. It’s a low bar to set, even for gentrified radio-metalcore with that title, and although there’s some heft brought back, you’re still mostly saddled with paint-by-numbers boredom and some frankly horrible vocal production.
At least Grayscale can pull things back with The Hart, more proof of their underrated status, despite evidently being stuck in 2022. This is emo-pop where the ‘pop’ is front and centre, polished to within an inch of its life and steered by its calamitous drum presence. It’s far from the current zeitgeist, but between some genuinely good hooks and a lyrical slant that knows how to push some real effectiveness (feel the shock as you find yourself arrested with no escape by Mum II), it’s pretty good stuff, overall. Even with the influx of guests reworking each track on its deluxe version, it never caught on in 2025, but The Hart is definitely worth a bit of attention, just like Grayscale as a whole.
February
Want some ho-hum metal albums that could charitably be described as ‘returns to form’? Well, depending on who you ask, Dream Theater never left their form, which means Parasomnia is exactly what you’d expect. It’s Dream Theater in a nutshell—prog-metal that feels about a week long, and if you’re not dialled into this at an obsessive level, a perfect sleeping aid. Architects, on the other hand, have improved since the classic symptoms of a broken spirit, but The Sky, The Earth & All Between is…still not it. It was forgettable back in February and revisits haven’t deemed it less so, where the bar for Architects is now mid-level and achievable, and hardly impressive when they get there. Maybe they’re just so far past it now that any old magic is dust in the aether at this point; it certainly seems like with this, where its improvement only gets them up to being ‘okay’, at best.
Of course, February’s crap wasn’t just restricted to metal; not in the slightest. On Open Wide, Inhaler maintained their status as one of the indie’s chief charisma-voids. More exasperatingly, however, Punk Rock Factory continue with a career of gimmicky cover albums that any self-respecting band would reserve for a novelty. If there’s an overarching theme on All Hands On Deck, it’s probably wedding-disco songs that are in no need for a pop-punk do-over, though when has that ever stopped Wales’ primary cringe-merchants? So if pop-punk covers of Boom! Shake The Room and Livin’ La Vida Loca are what’s needed to scratch your itch, you might want to get better taste, though for a band with ‘Factory’ in their name who churn out this rubbish like no one’s business, surely you know what you’re getting into by now.
Fortunately, it’s not all bad. As you might expect, Bleeding Through came up trumps on Nine, their first album in seven years without even the tiniest touch of rust to deal with. As far as grand, bombastic metalcore replete with gothic and symphonic majesty goes, there’s still no one who even comes close. It’s Bleeding Through at their most comprehensively great; the fact that a Comeback Kid feature is a seamless inclusion should say everything about how much this works. Cheekface’s Middle Spoon also has a left-of-centre feature that totally works, that being McKinley Dixon who moulds Military Gum into a really fun, free rap-rock number. The rest of the album is decidedly not that, though quirky, off-kilter indie-pop that throws out quotable lines with reckless abandon is, in itself, a treasure trove to behold.
March
Let’s just get the stinkers out the way first, because March had quite a lot of good stuff that shouldn’t be too bogged down by them. First off, Courting had Lust For Life Or: ‘How To Thread The Needle And Come Out The Other Side To Tell The Story’, in which the initial mutation into a bottom-shelf version of The 1975 is swiftly punctured by decidedly underwhelming indie-rock. For as apropos of nothing as Stealth Rollback’s gammy rave impression is, there’s more going on with it than another par-baked post-punk slate. Even worse is cleopatrick, who were never astounding as a riff-rock band but feel worth even less on Fake Moon. Shrunken down to this cloying, vacuum-sealed bedroom-indie, there’s just nothing here on this one. The most forgettable album this forgettable band have ever produced.
Beyond that, it’s a pretty good month, actually! You can’t really complain when the worst of the rest is Michael Cera Palin’s We Could Be Brave, a Midwest emo album that’s still okay but not as interesting as you might like from what features a track called Murder Hornet Fursona. But even if you are left cold, you’ve got a suitable alternative in Great Grandpa. Patience, Moonbeam is another deft mix of alt-country, emo and indie-rock, moulded and calcified into a Pitchfork-friendly package that’s still absolutely listenable if your head isn’t halfway up your anal cavity. Some really vibrant, soft production is what makes this one, where if Great Grandpa aren’t exactly a standout presence in volume, they’re still well worth coming back to with this album.
As for the rest, it’s all metal, and all with very different slants. Obviously, Deafheaven’s Lonely People With Power has been talked to death throughout 2025, and for good reason. They’re one of the most creatively rich names in modern heavy music doing it all over again, where the blend of black-metal and shoegaze is seamless and evocative, and also as melodic as it comes. It also helps that there’s still no one quite like Deafheaven in terms of what they can specifically bring; it’s no wonder why so many (even outside of heavy-leaning circles) have become so enamoured with this one. By comparison, Alien Weaponry are locked tight into the metalliest of metal paddocks, though Te Rā—in deviating from thrash into a more pounding heavy metal style, while still being drawing plenty from the band’s Mōari heritage—has plenty about it to love. Shoutout to SpiritWorld’s Helldorado, too, a rollicking, pulpy metal album that wears its cowboy theming as a crucial part of its identity, rather than a mere gimmick. Suffice to say, that makes all the difference.
April
Considering how they’re often placed among the linchpins of modern metal, it’s a wonder there hasn’t been much talk about Machine Head’s UNATØNED this year. Then you remember how they’ve been the target of merciless fan derision during their last couple of releases and it makes more sense. And while UNATØNED won’t remedy that—a song like THESE SCARS WØN’T DEFINE US will no doubt encapsulate everything wrong with modern Machine Head for some—it’s really not that bad. Burly, brawny metal like this can hold naturalised appeal by default, especially for a band like Machine Head who make no bones about having surpassed this in the past, but aren’t exactly resting on their laurels, either. Maybe the lower stakes mean it doesn’t warrant extensive discussion, though writing it off completely is maybe overstepping the line.
A metal album that’s been getting anything but that treatment is Thornhill’s Bodies, where the fence that had once kept them cooped up in restrictive, functional-at-best tech-metal has been fully torn asunder. It’s absolutely their best album, between a sleeker, sharper design, production that gives some real weight to their brand of alt-metal, and an inherent listenability that previous releases just didn’t have. Streamlining to this degree has done nothing but benefit Thornhill, with Bodies finally living up to so many of the plaudits that might’ve felt a little misguided previously. But speaking of streamlining and how it can have no effect whatsoever… Well, it’s not precisely true for Mayday Parade, whose 2025 output was shorter overall, but is looking to add up to a bigger project over the next year or so. Nevertheless, Sweet is effectively a Mayday Parade album, just scaled back. The Knuckle Puck collaboration Who’s Laughing Now is way too far of their wheelhouse to work; otherwise, everything you remember this band doing in 2007 is here.
Significantly more interesting is Black Country, New Road’s Forever Howlong, in both how this band have fielded a ‘comeback’ and what that actually pertains to on a new album. Despite Isaac Wood leaving as frontman, there’s really been no step missed in output. Lead vocals have been taken over by basically everyone else, and although the music on this third album is less liable to sprawl, the almost-baroque-pop feel the band have tilted into ensures their level of engagement hasn’t dropped. It’s a refresh in more ways than one, perhaps not quite as immediate in its grip as what preceded, but far from a signifier that one of the decade’s most intuitive bands is done.
To cap off April, there’s a couple of names coming from the DIY scene and its adjacent spaces, one of which has seen far more dominance this year than the other. That’s, of course, Scowl with Are We All Angels, an album that saw indie-rock become their prime directive, while still having the gears of a hardcore band turning away inside. A bit more of the even-handed blend that characterised their earlier releases would’ve been even better, though the returns they’ve seen on a wider level than ever before speak for themselves. Compared to the return of Superheaven, it’s like night and day. They came back with their self-titled album this year—their first in a decade—and it’s…alright? Back in the mid-2010s, this grunge / shoegaze concoction was as radical as it came within the scene; now, it’s performed well but not exactly lighting any sort of fires.
May
There’s a theme to a lot of May’s releases, that being ‘bands doing their normal thing, and generally doing it well’. Quite what constitutes ‘normal’ for Viagra Boys can be debated, but in the shaggy, rambling, creasingly sardonic wells of viagr aboys lies a band who feel as though they’ve been building up to this for their entire career. It’s been acclaimed to no end, for one, and rightfully so, given that it’s one of the most grippingly unhinged post-punk albums of 2025, no contest. For as much as Sebastian Murphy could be ranting about everything and nothing all at once, the blackened rabbit hole of viagr aboys only gets more tempting to dive into as it progresses. And that’s even before you consider the basslines and dominance of groove that parlay experimental rock brain-leakage into a form that’s truly unbreakable.
By comparison, Stray From The Path’s Clockworked is as straightforward as they come, both to the band’s house style and just in general. Still, for their swansong release, it’s everything you could ask for—calamitously, righteously pissed-off hardcore and rapcore with not an air of finality to be seen. The ‘get in, get out’ mindset has always served Stray From The Path well, and clearly it’s continuing to do so right up to the end. As for additional examples of punks sticking to their guns, PUP’s usually-scrappy, always-endearing roughness was brought out in full force once more on Who Will Look After The Dog?, and Propagandhi, despite being a little less thrashy this time around, remain as consciously driven as ever on At Peace, still in suitably arresting fashion.
They can’t all be winners, though. Once a band who might have verged upon something good with more application, Acres have just fallen off the wagon with The Host. They’ve gone full Caskets now, with bricked-out Dayseeker worship comprising every fibre of their being, and subsequently becoming lost in the opaque morass of bands who can’t take the hint that we don’t need more of this. If you still can’t get enough of this stuff…well, your horizons needed to be broadened ASAP, but it’s also the only way you’ll be getting long-term enjoyment from Acres’ newest. Finally, it’s not on the same tier, but Skunk Anansie aren’t at their very best on The Painful Truth. Granted, that’s mostly a result of being one of the defining acts in first-wave Britrock, which slicker alt-pop leanings struggle to match by design. Still, the fact they’re still here is commendable itself (it’s basically made text on An Artist Is An Artist), and Skin is a superstar frontwoman, even on her worst days. That, alone, puts Skunk Anansie in a higher bracket than anything that can be called ‘bad’ with a straight face.
June
You think June was so slow this year because of the natural summer lull, or because everyone knew that Turnstile were coming and cleared the way? Either way, it solidified the path that saw NEVER ENOUGH become one of the defining releases of 2025, and not for no reason. If GLOW ON was their graduation from hardcore into the brave, new world of indie-friendly punk, this is where the moves really start getting made. Big, glistening production jobs reign in abundance, without a total kneecapping of their vivacity and Brendan Yates’ nervy frontman role. Hardcore remains in the peripherals, too, albeit a lot looser and more watery, representative of any boundaries once imposed upon Turnstile melting away. To that end, it should come as no surprise that NEVER ENOUGH has been received as warmly as it has; the fact that Turnstile’s name has now become one of the shorthands for your standardly performative ‘cool’ bands should say it all.
If that’s putting you off, though, June also had some alternatives to try in a similar ballpark. While impossible to claim that they were directly steered by the success of Turnstile’s opus, Higher Power certainly can fill a similar mould with their surprise album There’s Love In The World If You Want It. Despite continuing to go underrated in the world of alt-hardcore, they’re still more than worth the exploration. Here especially, there’s some great, meaty production that’s allowed to wield the twin cudgels of hardcore and grunge, and really leave a significant mark. If the indie side of it all is more your bag, there’s always Skegss and new EP Top Heavy, though expectations should be fastened a lot more tightly for this one. The bossa nova opener State Of Hawaii is fun; otherwise, it’s another ephemeral piece of Dune Rats-esque slacker-rock with frontman Ben Reed putting on a croaky, nonchalant affect for the purposes of believability. It doesn’t work.
Finally, for something outside of that sphere, Badflower’s No Place Like Home is a bit of a polarising one. They’re evidently yet to grow out of their tryhard streak, as seen in the opening title track, and with how cloying and close Josh Katz’s singing can be, it’s a hard sell at the best of times. On the other hand, though, there’s enough of a compelling human element in songs like Detroit and Don’t Be A Stranger to work, where they chisel out a tangible alt-hard-rock melody and coalesce towards something. Results will definitely vary with this one, but it’s worth a brief go, all the same.
July
Did you know that The Revenge Of Alice Cooper is technically only the eighth Alice Cooper album? Yeah, apparently there’s a distinction between Alice Cooper The Man and Alice Cooper The Band that’s split the catalogue in a sizable way, meaning that this is the first ‘Alice Cooper’ album since 1973’s Muscle Of Love. That fact, by the way, is orders of magnitude more interesting than anything on this album. Even accounting for the main man being 77 years old now, geriatric dad-rock eschewing even the faintest touch of his camp and macabre is a ludicrous notion to believe in. It leads to Cooper sounding woeful as a singer, and embarrassments like Crap That Gets In The Way Of Your Dreams being all too commonplace.
But speaking of legacies that have taken a bit of beating recently… Okay, so the fact that the wider populace have only just discovered the cringeworthy Your Lives Burn isn’t entirely the fault of Daron Malakian And Scars On Broadway. It’s been around since Addicted To The Violence came out in July, and even then, dodgy, inconsistent politics is hardly a new hurdle to overcome in the nonsensical ecosystem around System Of A Down. At least the album as a whole isn’t bad, leaning into that SOAD philosophy of wacky lyrical antics on Satan Hussein and Destroy The Power, and trying to replicate their one-of-a-kind nu-metal to…let’s say ‘mixed-to-decent’ results. In any case, it’s fine to keep around.
July also saw the debut solo album of Michael Clifford, SIDEQUEST, seeing the 5 Seconds Of Summer guitarist channel a tactile, online form of emo-pop (unsurprisingly with guest appearances from Porter Robinson and Waterparks’ Awsten Knight), where some less-than-exceptional gaps are papered over by the college try of it all. You can make a similar judgement about Panic Shack’s self-titled album too, honestly. The shadow of Lambrini Girls’ Who Let The Dogs Out proves inescapable, unfortunately, between the taut, locomotive post-punk sound, and the mundanities and everyday observations baked into its songwriting DNA. Gok Wan is quite literally the same as Nothing Tastes As Good As It Feels, down to including that very phrase in its lyrics. But like all of these, the tenacity and determination coursing through Panic Shack add up to lot more than a similar musical palette will bring on its own. Pretty good overall, even if one of the biggest breakthroughs of 2025 isn’t being unseated by it.
Oh, and Dropkick Murphys released For The People in July. It’s a Dropkick Murphys album; you don’t need us to tell you how that goes.
August
There was a surprising array of releases that dropped in August, more than you might expect. And while the amount in this section could speak to our diligence for covering them in a timely manner, there are still some we’ve touched on outside of a formal review. So, to quickly address those, Wolf Alice’s The Clearing is a glossy soft-rock pivot that’s beautifully energised for them; Pendulum’s fusion of hard rock and drum ‘n’ bass still bangs on Inertia (albeit in a more straightforward, streamlined way than some of their very best; Halestorm embrace a more progressive side to their meat-and-potatoes hard rock on Everest, for the strongest thing they’ve put out in ages; and while we haven’t touched on them in a while, As December Falls are as six-out-of-ten on Everything’s On Fire But I’m Fine as when we left them, so it only seems fitting to lob them in here.
With all of those out the way, there’s a lot more room to touch on the biggest story of August—the return of Hayley Williams with Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party. This was the endgame of the heap of material dropped on her website, compiled into a brand new album that’s far more inspired and cohesive than you might expect from something cobbled together from loosies. It’s a cool sound, for a start, with distinct shades of ‘90s alt-rock and contemporary alt-pop that a more measured Williams can obviously ride well. And with an abundance of true ear-catchers in both the macro and micro sense—the now-beloved “I’ll be the biggest star at this racist country singer’s bar” on the title track; the inexplicable interpolation of The Bloodhound Gang’s The Bad Touch on Discovery Channel—it’s been one that’s had an enormous amount of staying power. Above all, with the quantum status of a new Paramore album going unchanged as usual, it’s nice that Ego Death… does more than just fill a hole; it’s really good in its own right.
On the complete other end of the musical spectrum, The Armed unleashed one of their usual sonic flayings with The Future Is Here And Everything Needs To Be Destroyed. Exactly as sunny and optimistic as that title suggests, hardcore’s most combustible crushers are once again on fine form, even bringing a bit of melody without any danger of wiring their noise-rock-inspired jaws. Speaking of hefty beasts of albums, The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die’s Dreams Of Being Dust covers some impressive distance. They’ve never exactly been wallflowers, but shaking off the remaining vestiges of emo and diving into hardcore and metal emphasises the boldness that’s always been there by vast quantities. An absolute treat from one of the most fearless bands around.
The remainder of August is, admittedly, less standout, but don’t take that to mean it’s not good, either. On Thirst, Slow Crush’s heavy shoegaze really can suck you in, regardless of lacking a killer twist that’ll keep you there longterm. Chevelle, meanwhile, have been vaulting over the butt-rock peons for a while now, and Bright As Blasphemy sees them continue in good stead. Even if the pitch of ‘ready-for-radio Tool’ isn’t being deviated from at all, you’re unlikely to be let down if the last few journeys down that path have managed to impress.
September
There were some big ones out in September. Like, physically big, clocking in at over an hour and sure feeling it. For starters, La Dispute’s No One Was Driving The Car is another journey into the dense, thorny undergrowth that this band call home. Yes, it’s very difficult to get along with if you’re not in the headspace for it, but that’s also just the kind of band that La Dispute are. Even if it’s not your thing, post-hardcore is richer for a band like this willing to go the lengths that they are. The same can be said for Between The Buried And Me in tech-death, with The Blue Nowhere finding them at their oft-explored madcap extremes, overstimulation from it all be damned. As for Lorna Shore, the air around I Feel The Everblack Festering Within Me has felt noticeably cooler than it was for Pain Remains, and it’s not that clear as to why. Ignoring the crybabies whose hackles will be raised by them simply being a bigger band, they’re still pulling out lavish, enormous blackened deathcore that’s perfectly fitting in its role as scene figurehead. And let’s not forget Nine Inch Nails, whose soundtrack to TRON: Ares appears to be the one unanimously-agreed-upon good thing about that film.
Of course, if you’re of a certified demographic, the September album that was bigger than all others was Twenty One Pilots’ Breach, marking the finale of whatever bollocks bit of lore we’re currently at with them. Overall, it’s…okay. There’s just something about Twenty One Pilots that have made them less lustrous recently, once the head honchos of overthought indie- and alt-pop who are now getting to the finish line without much fanfare. A song like Drum Show shines for some uncharacteristic meat, but you’d be hard pressed to find much else on Breach to satisfy like that. On the bright side, it’s still better than grandson’s INERTIA, despite that being his most praiseworthy album. A straight-up rap-rock style is much better than the dubstep-infused monstrosities of previous efforts; otherwise, his voice is still a caustic irritant and hearing agreeable politics be relayed through it is a turgid experience.
At least there’s a few more really strong ones to end up September’s bunch, starting with blessthefall of all bands. Maybe it’s just overwhelming fatigue from the current crop of metalcore’s lobotomisers, but GALLOWS is significantly more enjoyable than a 2010s throwback should be. Whether it’s legitimately commendable production or avoiding a full, warts-and-all throwback, but blessthefall have really done a good job with this one. Less surprising but still always good to see, Motion City Soundtrack assert their dominance as emo lifers with The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World. It’s the MCS you know and love, with extra points for Particle Physics and Downer sounding as though they’ve could’ve been lifted wholesale from My Dinosaur Life. Finally, Die Spitz’s Something To Consume deserves a mention for their weighty, wholeheartedly alluring meld of punk, grunge and general ‘90s je ne sais quoi. Expect their breakout to be anything but confined to 2025.
October
There was an unseasonably massive amount of pop-punk and pop-punk-adjacent stuff released in October. For starters, Mayday Parade’s continuing project got its next installment with Sad, and…second verse, same as the first; just like Sweet, it’s your expected Mayday Parade lachrymosity whittled down to eight songs and standing on its own as reasonably as can be asked for. The same can basically be said for Yellowcard on Better Days, even if you would hope for better. As a Travis-Barker-produced effort, there’s not a speck of dirt or grime to be found, which in turn leads to some of their punch also fading in the process. It’s more in the lane of All Time Low these days than Ocean Avenue, manifesting in its least-flattering form with City Of Angels’ stodgy electro-pop, but more often than not, it’s fine. Of course, there’s always the likelihood you’ll want more than that, so why not go for Action/Adventure and their latest bit of proof of their pop-punk wunderkind status? In the grand tradition of classic Four Year Strong, Ever After is the kind of meaty, rocksliding genre album that treats ‘punk’ as more than just a suffix on itself.
Stepping outside of that tighter circle, you find Militarie Gun’s God Save The Gun, and undoubtedly feel as though it’s their biggest step to date. No, it’s not pop-punk in any strict sense, but nor is it the hardcore, punk or even straightforward alt-rock in which it’s been categorised. It’s got more in common with Turnstile in that sense, a defining blend of everything in the vicinity that’s still enormously tight, accessible and, at times, hard to put down. Spiritual Cramp hit a similar—albeit less sky-walking—stride with RUDE, pitched between peak Against Me! and the 2000s’ post-punk revival with barely a moment of its time wasted. Back to the poppier end of things, though, All Ears Avow feel as though some of their most top-tier grooviness is missing on their debut full-length Horrors. In fairness, that’s in comparison to EPs that, in that space, were truly special bits of pop-rock; this is still pretty good for what it is.
A couple of metal releases also stood out in October, most notably Trivium’s Struck Dead, a three-track EP that, pound-for-pound, is as good as it gets from a band who’ve been as radiant as can be in recent years. There’s not a great deal to say about it, or at least not much that hasn’t been iterated about Trivium as a whole lately. All that matters is how they’re still one of the very best around, seen in even this briefest morsel of work. On the other hand, Avatar, while having been a lot worse in the past, aren’t undergoing any radical renaissance with Don’t Go In The Forest. Their kookiness has often overshadowed true musical output, so it’s good to see them trending in a more reputable direction, but that’s still just melodeath with most stock put in the ‘melo-’ side of things. Is it better than the similarly disappointing Ghost album from this year? Frankly, it’s a bit of a toss-up.
But if, after all of that, you’d prefer to get into the festive spirit way too early, Taylor Momsen is apparently reprising her role as Cindy Lou Who for Taylor Momsen’s Pretty Reckless Christmas. It’s unclear who among The Pretty Reckless’ fanbase wanted a Christmas EP (and even more unclear who among those wanted it on Halloween), but it’s here, the equivalent of a cornball TV special from a women who made it pretty clear she’d aged out of that mould when Light Me Up came out 15 years ago. A bit of a turkey, honestly.
November
Is anyone that bothered about a new Of Mice & Men album? There’s barely been a peep about Another Miracle throughout the entirety of its build-up, not to mention how the band’s standing has taken a serious hit over the years. And this is just another reason for that, offering the same blocks of metalcore taking glances at nu-metal and butt-rock that’s had them running in place for almost a decade. A band this big will never be incompetent, but that’s hardly worth singing from the rooftops about when this album appears to have been whitewashed from all memory altogether.
Besides, there was a bounty of better metalcore in November alone to slake whatever hankerings you had for metalcore’s most oversaturated subgenre. My Ticket Home returned with Pure To A Fault, their first album in 2017 that had them hopping on the ‘90s alt-metal train and sticking the landing. Elsewhere, AVRALIZE’s exploration of rickety bass rhythms and floods of colour yielded some solid results on Liminal, and Annisokay completed their two-year-long Abyss project, bringing together both EPs with some new songs and shooting for the moon all the way through.
The rest of November was a bit of a mixed bag, but did trend more positively, overall. Of course Spanish Love Songs did a great job as usual, bringing onboard storied guests for their A Brief Intermission In The Flattening Of Time EP for more quaking, honest odes to life via heartland-rock that only becomes more aching. South Arcade’s EP PLAY! also did a good job, though on a scale that’s making their presence on the mainstream map more difficult to ignore by the day. There’s a reason they’re the pop-rock band getting pushed this heavily above anyone else. Finally, despite their meeting on Hinge being the first thing you’ll hear about them in any discussion, chokecherry wisely avoid any gimmicky temptations on Ripe Fruit Rots And Falls, a shoegaze album that’s more than worth checking out on its own merits.
It’s not all good, though. It definitely could be worse with Bearings’ Comfort Company, though pop-punk that sounds roughly a decade out of date is one of the first things to go when it comes to the need for more brain-space. Punk Rock Factory would be more preferable candidates for that, however; at least Bearings’ biggest crime is a lack of personality. The Fright Before Christmas, naturally, encompasses Halloween songs that it’s too late for and Christmas songs that it’s too early for, doubling down on the usual dissatisfaction that’s baked into Punk Rock Factory’s very existence. Neither side of this is good in the slightest, though closing with a pop-punk rendition of Fairytale Of New York might just be the tipping point for this whole awful enterprise. Stop now, please.
December
At least it’s not the same degree of Deadcember as 2024, but you still really feel the slowdown of the year’s releases here. None of these came with much hype outside of their predetermined catchments, even the new one from HEALTH which, considering how far and wide they tend to stretch, might give some pause. The possible explanation is how CONFLICT DLC is without their usual arsenal of guest stars, meaning that their industrial crush is a little less varied this time, but the sensation of being pummelled into a very literal oblivion remains. In a not-dissimilar vein, Volumes have definitely been more interesting than they are on Mirror Touch, the trade-off being in how they’ve noticeably made their alt-metal leaner and sharper this time. The same goes for Profiler, growing out of full-blown Deftones worship on Masquerading Self and toying with rap-metal that spins the most hope for them to date. cleopatrick, on the other hand, spawn their second dud of the year with SCRAP, a title that couldn’t be more apt for this collection of ‘rarities’ that’s more pointless interludes than anything else. Even when looseness and a lack of finish is this band’s whole deal, this is past any reasonable limit of workability and just ends up being total shit.
To close out the year, though, let’s take a look at KILL KARL, an artist who is so lucky that our worst-of-the-year accolades are locked in at this point, because he would be a shoo-in. Imagine the most punchable man in the universe making ‘comedy’-rap songs with metal bits gracelessly fed into them, where the joke is the randomness of it all and how gratuitously he swears. If you’re, like, 10 at most, SUCK ON MY ALBUM might elicit a chuckle with its silly voices; otherwise, there’s not one iota of worth to this, and the world is a poorer place for it having left the slop-mines of Instagram Reels and being put on the free market to be purchased with actual, hard-earned money. If KILL KARL’s life’s work was erased from existence right this second, it wouldn’t nearly be enough penance for a moment in time when this atrocity was wrought into being.
Words by Luke Nuttall
