The Quietus Albums of the Year So Far 2025 (In Association with Norman Records)

Stereolab’s indefinite hiatus has not been in vain, as they have clearly been spending this time carefully piecing together what feels like their strongest album in years. Instant Holograms On Metal Film also feels particularly emotionally resonant. While their previous release, Not Music, still had the band’s wonderful melodic sensibilities, its production was considerably more claustrophobic, distracted and distant compared to the openness we find on their latest. Maybe this is something to do with Stereolab finding perfect collaborators (as they did with Nurse With Wound on Simple Headphone Mind). With Bitchin’ Bajas members contributing too, it sounds like they’re relaxed and open to exploration, making for a suite of songs as bright as its yolk-yellow album art.

The latest from Bath’s best-ever pop star is not quite as gossamer-light as previous hits ‘Boys A Liar’ and ‘Mosquito’. Lead-up singles like ‘Tonight’ and ‘Illegal’ immediately signalled a harder, faster, more dancefloor-friendly sound. Fancy That is still every bit as infectious as those aforementioned singles, though. Magpie-like, PinkPantheress is pinching bits from the likes of Underworld, Basement Jaxx and Sugababes, but it’s the skipping 2-step beats that situate these songs most firmly in the late 90s, some years before the singer, née Victoria Beverley Walker, was even born. There is a swirly, rubberiness to the sound here, a post-K-pop effervescence that marks it as distinctly of the now. I have no idea how heavily PinkPantheress’s voice has been processed in the studio, but she sounds to me like someone who was born with an autotune filter built into her throat. There simply aren’t enough people around trying to make music sound this fun.

Opening with the sound of prepared coronet rippling through rock-constrained dead air, Lahar begins by evoking ghosts of wounded animals, before the drums hit with heart skipping urgency. What started spookily haunting becomes undeniably present as sinister rhythms arrive with the intensity of an avalanche. On ‘Anak Cecil’, a guitar dances around while the hypnotic percussion line keeps hitting electronic ruptures as though your speakers are buckling under the weight. It’s pummeling, overwhelming, yet through sheer unwavering intensity it’s also ecstatic. The album’s name is a Javanese term adopted in geology to describe pyroclastic flows. It’d be reductive to say Lahar sounds like a specific natural disaster. Rather, Kuntari express a dark potential lurking in the environment. A sense that something destructive and awe-inspiring is hiding, ready to erupt. 

La Brea is a truly inexplicable, revelatory debut. Spending 80 minutes with Chilean band Hesse Kassel, and their writhing, scampering, soaring post-rock, is as genuinely life-affirming as it gets. It is music of the most cathartic and reinvigorating nature, and an elemental listening experience that makes everything feel new, exciting, and possible. The sextet from Santiago spend most of their debut trawling dark, gristly undertow, but within their sprawling, flowing ten-minute songs, they always break through into euphoria.

Italian doom quartet Messa are looking beyond the organic 70s vibes of their stunning 2022 opus Close on their new record The Spin, which self-consciously harks back to the glitzy synthesisers and heavily gated snares of the 80s instead – and if that admission just filled you with the same dread I got upon initially reading it, then fear not, as not only do the band wear this sound well, it’s resulted in perhaps their most focused, punchy album yet. There’s a strong goth influence throughout, readily apparent from both the spidery guitar twangs, crepuscular keys and pulsating bass lines that kick off both opener ‘Void Meridian’ and the stomping Siouxsie-fronted Killing Joke-isms of ‘At Races’. 

Bridget Hayden’s folk music is the kind that makes you stop and pay attention. The experimental musician’s new record with her band The Apparitions, Cold Blows The Rain, is direct in its nature – renditions of eight traditional folk songs that she grew up on, sung to her by her mother – but vast in its power. The music moves at languorous pace, an enveloping cloud of strings and plucked banjos that evocatively – and intentionally – recall the sodden, misty beauty of her native West Yorskhire. Rich as it is, however, it is always secondary to Hayden’s singing. Many of the songs here are well known – ‘Lovely On The Water’, ‘She Moved Through The Fayre’, ‘When I Was In My Prime’ – but she sings with such depth that Cold Blows The Rain operates on a level apart from such trivial concerns as obscurity. She has the ability to tap into my very favourite thing about folk songs – the power of the universal.

Chronotopia is a masterclass in quiet intensity. Rooted in minimalism and introspection, Elisabeth Klinck’s delicate violin compositions unfold slowly, almost imperceptibly, demanding deep and attentive listening. She plays so softly that, at times, the sound seems to dissolve into silence, creating a space where every subtle tone resonates with poignant clarity. Occasionally adorned with abstract vocal lines, the pieces are song-like in structure yet remain elusive and ethereal – more restrained and fragile than her previous work. Witnessing Klinck perform Chronotopia live at Rewire, her presence struck me: seated, immersed in melody, sometimes singing gently, always resisting the temptation of crescendo. The music feels like it’s breathing with the audience – evocative of artists like Širom or Cucina Povera, yet entirely her own. It hovers between sound and silence, where emotion is not declared but quietly suggested. It is a profound and deeply affecting listening experience.

The World Is Still Here And So Are We will inevitably be weighed against Mclusky’s 2002 classic, Mclusky Do Dallas. A special album indeed, full of joyous pop hooks, menacing basslines and more one-liners than a working men’s club comic. But to wallow in nostalgia is to miss the point. As the title of this release reminds us, Mclusky are here with us now and guess what? They’ve grown up. Don’t panic: they’re as daft and irreverent as ever but there’s a newfound inventiveness to their songwriting that’s clearly the result of experience. With Falco and drummer Jack Egglestone perennially busy with projects like Future Of The Left and Christian Fitness, the past 20 years haven’t been spent idly, and it shows. Playful, scathing and explosive, Mclusky are officially back in business, and business is good.

End Beginnings’ lead cut, ‘Hidden’, is techno for end times. It busts and breaks its way through countless gears, spreading sheets of halcyon ambience over the top before retreating like footsteps disappearing into the night. And the night is where this operates best. ‘Citrinitas Acid’, with its Drexciyan swipes, sounds like a nocturnal cruise through the Motor City. Sandwell District still seem eager to assault the biggest speakers in the darkest rooms and they eloquently marry the primal physicality of techno’s propulsion with its forward-facing techniques. It might not have the initial groundbreaking impact of its predecessor, but End Beginnings pushes the techno continuum on, inch by inch, bleep by alien bleep, beat by rib-crushing beat.

It’s worth noting that, despite being recorded live like all their previous releases, this is France’s most ‘produced’ album to date: unlike, for example, the classic France Do Den Haag Church which was a ‘hit record and hope’ job (a Zoom recorder placed on the floor), Destino Scifosi was deliberately set up, with Mim from the a1000p label bringing his studio set-up to record the band at the Rituale festival in 2022, close-mic’ing the amps and setting up other microphones hundreds of metres away. With everything then being mixed by Mim, the result is the thickest, most hard-driving sound the trio have achieved on a record, with a weirdly pleasing, almost rubbery snare sound and the white heat of the hurdy-gurdy scalding your ears. It’s also fun at times to try to figure out whether you’re hearing whoops and whistles from the crowd, squeals from the hurdy-gurdy, or a combination of both.

No Floor feels more widescreen than some of More Eaze and Claire Rousay’s previous projects, but there’s still space for experimentation. On ‘Kinda Tropical’, contemplative acoustic guitars strum for a few seconds and then disappear without a trace. More Eaze’s string arrangements, which are great throughout the album, are lush and swelling, but they never build to anything. The fragmented nature of the track only adds to its emotional resonance. There are moments in the middle of No Floor that feel a bit soundtrack-y, but the record ends on a high note with ‘Lowcountry’. The strings really shine here, calling to mind some of Eiko Ishibashi’s recent work. Then, in a wave of glitch, it cuts off abruptly, and we’re left with the sound of passing cars and unheard conversations in the distance. The album as a whole feels like a dream that’s always at risk of being interrupted by reality, where pure bliss is just out of reach. But there’s more power in the in-between anyway.

About Ghosts is a storming addition to Mary Halvorson’s catalogue. Compositionally, it builds on her past work, expanding her oeuvre and balancing beauty with imagination and experimentation. The addition of two world-class saxophonists bolsters the range, depth and impact of the compositions on offer. Ultimately, she succeeds in perfectly balancing beauty and melodic implication with her restless experimentation. The result is deeply compelling and will have listeners coming back time and again to uncover more in these thrilling pieces.

Framed against her rise to the public consciousness via TikTok in 2019 – her viral dance routines earned her millions of followers on the social media platform – Addison Rae’s ensuing attempts at pop stardom, first with somewhat generic 2021 single ‘Obsessed’, have never felt all that surprising. More unexpected though is just how fully-formed she sounds four years on, on Addison. A debut album truly befitting her breakthrough, it was crafted collectively between Rae and songwriter-producer duo Luka Kloser and Elvira Anderfjärd. Benefiting greatly from the decision to lock in on a close nexus of writers and producers, this is pop music that is equal parts experimental and traditionalist. Bouncy Jersey club rhythms (‘New York’) and Ray Of Light-esque trip hop (‘Times Like These’) rub shoulders with snappy choruses and giddy key changes (the Born To Die-era Lana Del Rey-baiting ‘Diet Pepsi’), as well as ecstatically camp, nu-disco synths (‘Fame Is A Gun’). In an era of over-conceptualised, earnest pop music, Addison is a breath of fresh air. 

The first thing that immediately stuck out to me about Antigone is that the orchestration on it is fantastic. The string and horn arrangements were done by Eiko Ishibashi and her partner and frequent collaborator Jim O’Rourke, so it’s no surprise that the record sounds as good as it does. Still, the two outdid themselves here. On the album opener ‘October’, her vocals are augmented by recordings of traffic instructions and warped synths. The drums, from regular collaborator Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, sound lush and expressive, and Marty Holoubek’s bass has a rich tone informed by jazz fusion. Second track ‘Coma’ absolutely nails its languid 70s singer-songwriter vibe, with a classic fender rhodes warble and some truly heavenly harmonies. It calls to mind Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’, but with a perspective and an arrangement that could only come from Ishibashi. It’s helped along by an accordion contribution from Kalle Moberg, an unexpected but truly inspired addition that adds a whole other layer to the song. Every moment on this record is coloured with these sorts of intricate details, and they’re crucial to its overall success.

Kim Hiorthøy, when describing his latest LP Ghost Note, said it’s “a kind of emotional music that also hides in abstraction (or the other way around”. I Keep My Diamond Necklace In A Pond Of Sparkling Water shares this quality. It’s deeply moving without ever being easy or aiming for the middle. But where Hiorthøy’s record – itself interested in systems – is a marvelous, clattering exercise in intimacy, Gryphon Rue’s never feels that way. Instead, it’s positively global. The whole world’s in there. The listener is an omnipresent visitor, zooming in and out at will, observing. Rue helpfully provides a breakdown of sound sources in the credits, but I think the record is best experienced not knowing exactly what’s what, letting imagination fill in the gaps.

45 Pounds is 20 minutes long – indicative of just how ruthlessly the Brooklyn foursome have trimmed the fat on their lithe, wiry debut LP. Like a strawweight boxer, though light on its feet it packs maximum intensity into its flurry of jabs and hooks, ferocious jackhammer drums providing frantic backing for deranged howls and blowtorch guitars. It is a dark and punishing experience, and yet every now and then comes a burst of light that feels all the brighter for the juxtaposition, a soaring ascent upwards on the back of a transcendent blast of synths.

‘The Grey Area’ is a low-key jazzy murmur of an opener to Adventures In The Otherworld, livened slightly by a sampled description of some sort of out-of-body experience: one of four instrumentals, with ‘Dispossessed’ pitting ambient techno fluidity against weightless woodblock hits and creaking strings, ‘Main Feed’ bamboozling with fidgety polyrhythms, and ‘Maranasati’ leaning heavy into a Badalamenti/fourth world interzone. There are no weakeners, yet it’s the three tracks featuring London MC Lucky I’m Luke which illuminate 11:11’s brilliance. Hinting at mid-2010s sinogrime, Rhythm & Sound-type dub techno and deep house of the DJ Sprinkles ilk, it’s its own thing for all that, never more so than on ‘The Collapse’ on which Luke preaches a most compelling end-time message.

I wrote about Joe Murray, under his Posset alias, back in 2019, but the release wasn’t a solo recording, as latest album Scum is. It also wasn’t covering all 28 songs on the first Napalm Death album, as latest album Scum is. A brilliant idea, albeit one which would be a terrible idea if had by nearly any other musician. Murray, in general, is a dedicated anti-musician, typically creating his sounds through cassette manipulation, feedback, analogue hiss and game-of-chance vocal cutups: the audible presence of acoustic instruments on the odd track here goes against his own grain.

Ethel Cain has always invoked the Southern Gothic. It’s in the ghostly figures in her artwork, the grotesquerie in her lyrics, and the aesthetics of her release titles – Inbred, Preacher’s Daughter, Perverts – not to mention the details of her storytelling. Along with that, she puts her own spin on the genre’s preoccupation with darkness – its role in the world, where it comes from (within? Or somewhere beyond?), and to what extent it outweighs the light. Trading the romantic castles and dreary moors of the European Gothic for antebellum mansions, fiery tent revival preachers, and ghosts of the lost Civil War, the Southern Gothic digs past the region’s pastoral beauty and pie-on-windowsill charm into its history of slavery, racism and abject poverty. Realities that are repressed manifest in forms that are irrational and abhorrent, transgressive and at times darkly comic. With Perverts, Ethel Cain takes shame and turns it inside out. Sexual impulses, masturbation, the desire to be “good” versus the reality of being human, and the lure of recognition all unfurl across this otherworldly sprawl that looks to her own uncompromising artistic vision, above all else, as its guiding force.

Arriving two years on from debut mixtape Dontay’s Inferno, Niontay’s debut album proper is a charmingly nonchalant collection of largely short cuts that maintain the carefree energy usually reserved for mixtape projects. Mostly produced by the Brooklyn-via-Florida rapper himself, tracks like ‘32ummers’ and the Jadasea-featuring ‘Poltergeist’ are made to soundtrack a low-speed cruise round the summer roads with the top down, while the bass-boosted 808s on cuts like ‘Post game pskr’ and ‘MR.HAVEMYWAY’ share common ground with classic Atlanta trap. Frequently delivering his part-introspective, part-boastful tales of romance and loss in a low-register murmur (see tracks like ‘mumbleman’, ‘GMAN (balaclava (like09)’ and ‘Vice grip’), Niontay sounds at ease and in his element throughout Fada<3of$’s 19 tracks.