Remember December ‘25: Album(s) of the Year

Some mornings I wake with the remnants of a dream clogging the chutes and tubes in my brain, the whirl of surreal imagery populated by people and places, even pets, from my past. This year, my 60th, has found me floundering in memories long forgotten—ones neither good nor bad, I hasten to add, but mostly the mundane moments that make up life, from playing with pals on the streets of my youth, a battery-powered radio tuned to the hot hits on even hotter August afternoons, to gathering with the extended family for a Thanksgiving meal in my great aunt’s basement apartment to choosing my favorite album of the year on the final night of 1978, when I was a newly minted teen.

Different people dream different things, of course, and deciphering such musings is near impossible. Do they possess deep meanings? Are we processing problems or issues of the present and/or past? Or is the imagery simply the result of the brain discharging excess energy—i.e., the mental “zoomies”—while the body sleeps? In the last instance I mentioned above, a New Year’s Eve of long ago, it’s likely due to the “processing problems” explanation—except, in this case, it’s not a problem. It’s a tradition. Every December, I revisit my favorite albums of the year and appoint one, sometimes two, as my Album of the Year.

Say what you will about the dumpster fire that has been 2025 (and it has been just that), but it’s been a good year when it comes to the magical elixir known as music—a great one, in fact. I’ve enjoyed a wealth of albums and EPs from favorites old and new, many of which and whom will remain with me for the rest of my days. Truth be told, I’m in awe of the heart and talent shown by many of today’s young (relative to me) artists.

I shared my Top 25 releases of the year two weeks ago, prefacing it with a wordy caveat that should have been this succinct: Every album and EP featured in these pages is worthy of many plays. One thing I didn’t count on when creating that list, however: Juliana Hatfield’s Lightning Might Strike, which was released on December 12th. It’s as strong an album as any I’ve heard in 2025 and may well have made my Top 5 if given a few more plays. (Woulda, coulda, shoulda, am I right? I’m sure Juliana will lose much sleep over the near miss!)

Even if released in July, however, I doubt that it would’ve displaced what is easily my favorite album of the year. I’ve leaned on it time and again since first encountering it in late February, often queuing it up in the car when not lost in SirusXM’s ‘70s on 7 channel. (I feel like an old man, some days.) Along those lines, a few nights ago, Diane and I churned through YouTube videos of the stomping grounds of our youths—street scenes of Philly and its suburbs. Where does the time go? Why must it slip from our grip no matter the amount of Stickum we slather onto our hands, arms and chest? Somehow, and this is the “magical elixir” I mention above, this particular album’s songs seem as long ingrained in me as the memories brought forth by SiriusXM and those YouTube videos

With that, here are my Top 5 albums of 2025; I’ve paired them to brief excerpts from my original reviews, which can be read by clicking on the links.

1. Kassi Valazza –From Newman Street. “The songs sound bright and pleasant yet, once you dive in, are anything but; they capture, in poetic fashion, the gradual shift from innocence to disillusionment. From Newman Street explores a similar sentiment that often comes when many of us push into our 30s (and lingers forever more), when said disillusionment is replaced by a begrudging dismay.”

2. Kelsey Waldon –Every Ghost. “It reminds me of the ornery outlaw music of the ‘70s and ‘80s—though, in truth, it’s not ornery, just hardcore. It’s country music thick with themes of family, friends, foibles, regrets and recriminations, of looking back in order to move forward.”

3. Holly Palmer – Metamorphosis. “The tracks play out as movements in an avant-garde symphony, with each section playing into and off of those that precede and follow it. I won’t lie and say it’s for everyone; it’s definitely not. But for those who enjoy sounds that replicate the dream state, there’s much here to like and love; it’s both pop art and jazz, bright and vibrant, light and sumptuous, and more.”

4. Laura Elizabeth Hughes –Knots and Echoes. “There’s an innate warmth in her vocal arcs, whether bending high or dipping low. The same holds true with the handful of spoken-word pieces that accent Knots and Echoes, her first album. Her lilted rhythms start slow and gradually grow into a tree that grazes the sky.”

5. Malin Pettersen  – Wildflower. “There’s much on my mind, these days, from kittens to gravestones to the crazy times we find ourselves in, but somehow it becomes secondary to the music, which conjures country classics, the Gene Clark-era Byrds, and more. Leave aside the lyrics for a moment; Pettersen’s vocals flit high one moment and dive low the next, figurative honey flowing from the speakers, while her melodies sail like mini-luxury liners across relatively calm seas.”

And here, in alphabetical order, are my first 5 Honorable Mentions: 

6. Calista Garcia – Animal Magnifique. “It’s rock, it’s pop, and it’s even baroque in spots. At a time when sound-a-like confections litter prefabricated playlists, it’s a home to songs that only she could have written. She’s a poet with a distinct point of view.”

7. Juliana Hatfield – Lightning Might Strike. “Fans and fellow travelers…will find much here not just to enjoy, but think about; she articulates things we feel in our (albeit aching) bones.”

8. Cassandra Jenkins – My Light, My Massage Parlor. “It’s a calm-inducing collection of minimalistic instrumentals with ambient sounds mixed in, perfect for late nights, early mornings, and relaxing afternoons. It’s the closest most of us will get to floating in space, I think.”

9. Chip Wickham – The Eternal Now. “It’s the sound of the waking day, from the first cracks of sunlight to the initial sip of coffee, to the birds that chirp outside the window. Listening to it yesterday and today confirms that impression. It’s a wonderful set that jazz fans old and new should enjoy.

10. Christian Winther –Sculptures from Under the City Ice. “[F]or those who enjoy existential excursions, this is a compelling set that holds up to repeated listens.”