Soundtracks for 2025
NOTE: This article comes a little into 2026 because I wanted to dedicate more time to it than I had on hand in the moment. I decided to just put it out there rather than give up over lateness. For reference, every time I use "this year," I'm referring to 2025, and "next year" is 2026.
This year, the way I listened to music changed slightly, or, at least, it settled into something I'd been aiming to achieve for a while. I cancelled my Spotify Premium in March once I was happy with my library setup on MusicBee. Using MusicBee, I can host my own music files locally and organise them within the program, as well as being able to rip CDs, scrobble automatically to Last.fm, and listen to internet-hosted broadcasts of radio. I also use this program to manage the contents of my Rockbox-firmware iPod Mini.
With legislation coming in this year that intends to close off "mature" areas of the internet to anybody who doesn't want to hand over ID to a hastily-chosen third party with a questionable track record of actually keeping this process secure, I wanted to retain some control over what I am allowed to listen to.
I've been intentionally collecting CDs since 2023, with the added constraint that I take only what I can get secondhand in my local area. I can pop them into my combination CD/cassette player, but usually I save them to my hard drive and listen to them alongside my larger digital library. This year, I was especially proud of finding Ghost Reveries by Opeth, Black Holes and Revelations by Muse, and Symphony of Destruction by Megadeth, the latter of which was a fluke where I was offered it for free in the shop. For what I couldn't get directly from a CD, I've used Soulseek to locate and download. It's been wonderful to share my own collection with others, too.
I won't pretend going "cold turkey" from Spotify has been especially successful — the added inconvenience has caused my listening statistics to drop to the lowest they've ever been, and I have discovered considerably less new music — regardless, I'll develop new connections and routines in time.
I've gathered a list of twelve songs that in some way define my year. I may have discovered them this year, listened to them a lot this year, or they represent some kind of experience.
Permian: The Great Dying by The Ocean Collective
[Bandcamp] [YouTube] [Spotify]
"A cold wind blows out here / The sea's already dead / Let's get in the water / Let our bodies be the last"
I have always admired The Ocean Collective's blend of scientific curiosity with the metal genre, and what's more "metal" than the deadliest mass extinction in history? The band describes this primaeval tragedy in their progressive metal epic, closing the first installment of the Phanerozoic duology with a bang.
The song appears to oscillate, swinging between powerful peaks and calmer troughs, leading up to the final 40 seconds: a frantic verse against a suffocating smog of sound, screaming, "The air is getting hot and dry / Sticking to your skin and your open wounds / The sun burns us alive," before being snuffed out.
The Smallest Church in Sussex by Sea Power
[Bandcamp] [YouTube] [Spotify]
"I would often stay there / In the tiny yard there / I have been so glad here / Looking forward to the past here"
Between February and March, I played through Disco Elysium for the first time. I spent 35 hours across a single week absorbed in its story, Sea Power's soundtrack entirely fitting to this ensnarling universe that literally pulls apart with your progress. The altered version of this song performed as karaoke definitely stuck with me, especially since I "failed" the check.
Walking Wounded by The Tea Party
"Are you comfortable and numb? / Do they all succumb to all those lies? / Does it satisfy the greed? / Is it all you need, is it all you want?"
I'm a regular listener of a radio station called The Industrial Complex, which seems to be self-hosted by one guy. The Tea Party is, presumably, a band they enjoy who happen to make music outside of the industrial genre, so occasionally they pop up in the mix. There's really nothing comparable to the feeling of two to three hours of beating drums, screeching synthesisers, and chanted lyrics unexpectedly fading into a softer, "organic", piece of progressive rock.
Street Spirit (Fade Out) by Harakiri for the Sky
"This machine will, will not communicate / These thoughts and the strain I am under / Be a world child, form a circle / Before we all go under"
I'll be honest, Harakiri for the Sky's main body of work hasn't been for me, no matter how many times I've tried. However, I have always enjoyed their covers, and this recent release is no exception. The band hasn't altered the song too much, but where they have adds a dramatic depth that's absent in the drearier Radiohead original. The chugging guitars and relentless drumbeat; the black metal-inspired agonised cries barely audible underneath the main vocals. The atmosphere is desperate in its struggle with mortality, with final notes of triumph poking through as the vocalist sustains the concluding "immerse your soul in love."
Synthesizer by Electric Six
"You can go west or east / Confess your sins to a priest / You can slay the wicked beast / But you can't ignore my techno"
For some reason I listened to this album extensively this year. Sometimes even several times, back-to-back. Honestly? It's pretty good.
Edge to Life by Recoil
"There's no truth in the lie that only angels cry / When everybody knows we're all born to die"
Take a look in the corner, and you'll spot this song following you across the website. It took a lot of deliberation to settle on the song that would permanently describe Falconiforme back in July, but once I landed on Edge to Life, it wasn't such a difficult decision. It's in line with my favourite varieties of music, by one of my favourite musicians, while still remaining calm and unobtrusive enough to be played comfortably in the background.
Recoil is the solo(-ish) project of Alan Wilder, who you may already know from his work with Depeche Mode. Remember those songs between Construction Time Again and Songs of Faith and Devotion? Christmas Island? Those were his work. I discovered Recoil soon after diving into Depeche Mode's discography and fell in love with the range of experimental electronic music within the catalogue: pieces that flit from trip-hop to ambient to post-industrial, always evolving and producing intricate experiences that never feel too repetitive. I'm keen on how he gives a stage to other artists' voices and creativity to give each song individuality, united by the bleak synthetic soundscape behind each sample of the world.Phantom Liberty by Dawid Podsiadło
"Wires and chains / Starting to fade / Feels like a game / You can't escape"
Over the summer, I became enveloped in the vast world developed in the video game Cyberpunk 2077. To the point where I basically lived in Night City for a month. From beginning to end, it was an engaging and moving story, one that I seemed to have found at the right time in my life. Seeing that platinum trophy in the end was a poignant, but fitting, finale to my time spent with the game (for now, at least).
After completing all endings of the main story, I purchased the Phantom Liberty expansion. While the content offered in the base game was by no means substandard, Phantom Liberty blew it all out of the water. Its setting was clearly inspired by Metal Gear Solid and proto-cyberpunk films such as Escape From New York and its sequel; describing it as "up my alley" would be an understatement.
When I completed a run and saw a different ending, I sat through the credit sequence as it played this very theme. The first time, less than an hour after hiding, heart racing, from the survival horror-like sequence I had not expected to be confronted with, it felt like a true accomplishment to have persevered through genuine fear to hear this, this snappy variation on the soaring orchestras and isolated wistful vocals characteristic of Bond themes.
Don't Be So Serious by Low Roar
"Watch your words / Turn to dust / As we forget / As we move on / Still, I refuse / To let you slip away"
There's no denying that all of the songs featured in Death Stranding were incredible; the game was crafted for Low Roar, not the other way around. Now that I'm busy exploring the post-game, I find myself playing the soundtrack album from my library to fill in the silence.
This song plays over your journey as you learn the controls and travel to your first destination. It was this part that I was blown away by the stunning cinematic visuals and environments unlike anything I had ever seen in a video game before. The music was atmospheric and so, so apt as I made my way down the grassy slopes and waded across the river for the first time of many, gazing across at the waterfall and the silhouetted city rising over the horizon.
Hammering in My Head by Garbage
"Sweat it all out / In our electric storms and our shifting sands / Our candy jars and our sticky hands"
I found this album on CD this year! I've been familiar with Garbage for a while, but this encouraged me to finally listen to the deeper cuts. Since then, I've looped Version 2.0 so many times and especially returned to this track again and again. I love the grungy, yet still upbeat, backing tracks and the breathless, rasping delivery of the lyrics toward the end.
The Throne of Agony by Foetus
"Hello, central, gimme no man's land / From a walkin' waste disposal unit / A transfusion from me'd kill the faint of heart"
Nail is an album I could confidently identify as my favourite of the industrial genre, if not of all time. Thirlwell introduces a particular jaunty energy to the generally grim industrial scene that I haven't really seen since. The grisly lyrics conveyed through witty, stream-of-consciousness wordplay, rhyme, and referential humour are a signature in his work and certainly make each song memorable.
As an aside, I've always fantasised that, one day, I'll create a music video set to this song, featuring my fursona, Hardtek.
Seven by And One
"The stars are shining just for money / When people reach their hands for you / And now your TV tells a story / It feels like dead men hate you too"
I delved much further into And One's discography this year, beyond only being familiar with Bodypop. I couldn't really pick one out of a pretty reliable array of quality futurepop tracks, so I'll just say it's really funny how the song about 9/11 may be the most danceable track on Tanzomat.
To Drown by Agalloch
[Bandcamp} [YouTube] [Spotify]
"They escaped the weight of darkness / To drown in another"
Beautiful brumal, mostly instrumental, piece by Agalloch. A ten-minute-long experience. I always listen to this in the winter months, so it's an appropriate way to wrap up the year — and the list.
To Drown begins with water lapping the shore and a brooding pair of discordant guitars, followed by string instruments and spoken lines, which tie together the first track ("They Escaped the Weight of Darkness") and the last. The water soon fades behind the soundscape as it grows in intensity, the drums rumbling thunderclaps in the distance, becoming almost industrial in its abrasiveness as it marches toward the five-minute mark.
The work collapses in on itself before drones and shrieks from the strings swell until they overwhelm. The atmosphere rearranges into a sonic blizzard, with the drums pounding over repeated cello "riffs" from Marrow of the Spirit's opening instrumental. The assault grinds to a halt and falls silent against the waves, exactly as it began.
What about next year?
I don't know! At least, I want to focus on finding ways to discover new music naturally without Discover Weekly's algorithmic assistance and become more attuned to navigating music without a streaming library at my fingertips. I hope my digital library will grow, and so will my tangible collection. Soon, I'll find a record player to replace the one I bought in 2015, and I'll install a new shelf to display another set of CDs.