As always, we’ve argued, sulked, shifted things up and down spreadsheets at 1am, changed our minds, changed them back, and eventually landed on a Top 100 that captures the full, messy shape of the year. Some of these records arrived with full blockbuster fanfare; others crept in sideways and refused to leave. Some are debuts that signalled a door blowing open; some are by artists who’ve never felt more in command. What they all share is that special jolt that something real was happening, whether it was shouted from rooftops or whispered into headphones.
That’s the version of the year we’re counting down over December, not the tidy narrative the machine likes to pretend exists, but the one we actually lived through. The one full of odd left-turns, tiny triumphs, emotional haymakers, ridiculous bangers, huge statements, quiet killers and albums that lodged themselves so firmly under our skin we’re still shaking them loose over the festive nut roast.
Across this two weeks, we’ll be revealing the list bit by glorious bit. Just the albums that made our hearts race, our brains fizz and our year make a tiny bit more sense. From the cult favourites to the big hitters, this is 2025 as we heard it: brilliant, unpredictable, occasionally unhinged, and absolutely worth celebrating.
4. Wolf Alice - The Clearing
What makes ‘The Clearing’ feel so definitive isn’t just the polish. It’s the way that polish is used: as a frame for bite. With a cleanness that’s quietly audacious, there’s a tension between muscle and light that runs throughout. ‘Bloom Baby Bloom’ sets out the thesis: Ellie Rowsell uses voice as a lead instrument, the band giving her space to stretch before the guitars flare. ‘Just Two Girls’ leans into pop sparkle without losing edge. Standout ‘Passenger Seat’ dials everything down to a soft-focus ache, then ‘White Horses’ widens the shot, Joel Amey stepping up on co‑lead, grounding Rowsell’s lift off. It’s Wolf Alice pushing outwards and inwards at once, never losing their centre.
The shift to Sony’s big tent could have blunted a lesser band, but instead it clarifies their intent. Kurstin’s production isn’t a sheen so much as headroom: drums punch without swamp, Joff Oddie’s guitars switch from midnight shriek to lacquered shimmer, and Theo Ellis’ bass moves like a tide rather than a thud. When the band push - the serrated churn of ‘Leaning Against The Wall’; the bruised glam of ‘Bread Butter Tea Sugar’; the stately build of closer ‘The Sofa’ - the blows land because there’s air around them. Nothing is crowded. Everything is placed.
Rowsell remains positively iconic. She can be brittle as frost or bright as stadium floodlights, often inside the same song, and the writing here embraces it fully. The power of suggestion, fragments, images, half‑glimpsed stories that invite projection rather than lecture. It reads as adulthood without grand announcements; a record about inheritance, desire, damage and grace delivered with the confidence to leave negative space. If the band’s early work felt like a glorious snarl, this feels like a gaze held steady.
‘The Clearing’ proves Wolf Alice can scale up without sanding off the weird. Big, brazen choruses sit next to quiet confessions; classic‑rock swagger meets shoegaze bloom; glamour rubs against bruise. In an era when many rock records chase volume for its own sake, Wolf Alice chose impact. The result is their most expansive, most assured set yet: a band stepping onto the biggest stage and refusing to flinch. SA
