2025 has been very… strange. In more ways than one. Outside of the external calamity being pumped constantly into our already beleaguered brains, personal circumstances have flipped my life on its head. I’ll be frank with you. New music hasn’t been a priority for me in the first half of this year. So many incredible release cycles have come and gone, and I feel like I’ve only been able to sit through an album or two at most each week. My spreadsheet cataloging the new records I’ve heard each year is as bare as it’s been in over a decade, and when I thought about what to write about for our mid-year list I felt pretty discouraged by my lack of breadth in listening so far in 2025. But as I thought about that sad fact, a new perspective started to emerge when I thought about the records that I’ve heard that moved me this year and, strangely, I now count this cycle as one of my most important and vital of the past several years.
When writing about music, I have often approached my listening strategy as pure maximalism: As many records as you can hear in as short a time as you’re able. This has yielded great rewards in the past, including years of averaging more than a record per day by the time list season rolls around. This has been a fine approach for me over the past decade, allowing me to listen to records I never would have otherwise due to the exploratory foundation required to hear that many records in a year. But with my energy depleted and mind scrambled, I can count maybe a dozen records I’ve heard so far this year that genuinely moved me. But those records… there’s something different about them this year. Rather than feeling like another “banger banger, onto the next!” situation, I’ve been able to truly sit with a few of my favorite records this year, allowing them space to marinate and blossom in ways that I rarely have time for. The results have been transformative.
So far in 2025, Deafheaven, Dormant Ordeal, and Imperial Triumphant have each released records that connected with me in especially powerful ways. Are they the greatest albums I’ve ever heard? Of course not. In a normal year would they be getting as much attention from me as they are now? Doubtful. But this year being what it is I’ve been able to find myself kinda stuck to these releases in particular, and the fruit of that intentional, patience listening has had a profound impact on the way I consume music. One of those particular effects is finding myself increasingly emotionally gripped by music. I let my brain melt and reanimate so many times to Goldstar that it feels like a warm, silly place for my head to explore and engage. Dormant Ordeal’s insane gravity blasting death metal goodness has energized me so thoroughly that I’ve literally had to stand up and walk due to the adrenaline rush. It’s like the music is pumping through my blood vessels, latching onto the raw nerve that is my anger and letting it focus, letting it breathe. And Deafheaven’s latest opus, just… yeah, I’ve cried. Several times. It’s become a light in dark spaces. I’m so grateful for it.
These are experiences that have felt rare for me with music lately. I guess part of it is because I tend to overwhelm my ears with new shit so consistently that it makes me feel like I am wasting time if I invest this much effort into only a couple releases. But honestly… I think I’ve been missing the point. Music is supposed to move us. To make us feel things, deeply and profoundly. I was telling a friend recently about how I remember the exact moment when The National’s Boxer clicked with me. I remember exactly where I was when I first heard Kid A, Leviathan… hell, even a random Death Cab for Cutie record. For the first time in many years, I feel like I’ve recaptured that feeling.
I remember. I remember pounding my fists to the insane drumming in "Halo of Bones" in my new place, laughing and feeling my heart pump. I remember walking my German Shepherd at the park while Goldstar reconstructed my mentals. I remember staring at the ceiling of my brother’s room, fan moving in slow, rhythmic patterns, vision becoming increasingly blurred by tears as “Winona” let me know it was going to be okay. That there are “signs of progress” for me. For us. I treasure those moments more than I can say. 2025 will undoubtedly go down as the most narrow listening year I’ve had in at least a decade. But also the most profound. I may not be up on all the new-ish blasting through Bandcamp. But, more importantly, music moves me again. I’ll take it.