It’s that tough time of the year again, when music writers feel like they’re throwing some of their favourite artists under the bus by not including them in the annual top ten. This year, perennial end-of-year darlings Alex Rex, Big Thief, Brìghde Chaimbeul, claire rousay and Bill Orcutt could all have found themselves on this list if I’d have been writing it on a different day, in a different mood. The Irish folk scene continued to wow us, with Junior Brother and Poor Creature both releasing excellent albums, and some of our most reliable and beloved record labels continued to churn out a steady stream of winners: take a bow International Anthem and Drag City.
As was the case last year, some of 2025’s best releases have come outside the traditional format of albums, via short runs on bespoke tape labels: a nod here to the ever-excellent Ceremonial Counties series on Folklore Tapes, which is due to conclude in 2026 and feels like an important musical document, chronicling an obscure but highly fruitful niche where the avant-garde cavorts with free folk and hauntology. Particularly notable contributions came from Bridget Hayden, Jennifer Reid and Jake Blanchard. A nod too to the Jacken Elswyth-curated Betwixt & Between series, whose final instalment – a set of seasonal songs from Elspeth Anne and The Côr Meibion Gwalia – has just been released.
But here, without further ado, are the ten albums that made it.
Click on a title to read the full review.
Shabason, Krgovich, Tenniscoats – Wao (Western Vinyl)
In a collaboration that seems both surprising and inevitable, Japanese avant-pop veterans Tenniscoats joined forces with jazzy Toronto-based duo Nicholas Krgovich and Joseph Shabason. The resulting album was everything we could have hoped for: feather-light improvisational DIY pop songs with hints of free folk and languid jazz. Tenniscoats’ patented brand of nostalgic lo-fi pairs perfectly with Shabason’s rich and unexpected sax lines and Krgovich’s expressionistic lyrics and soft singing. Most impressive of all is the fact that the quartet only had time to rehearse twice before recording the album. The freshness shines through: Wao is like dew on gossamer.
Milkweed – Remscéla (Broadside Hacks recordings)
Over the course of their last three releases, Milkweed have found entirely new ways of expressing old ideas. Nothing else sounds like their dubby, cracked, DIY slacker folk. With every record, they seem to delve deeper into the strange recesses of folklore, and on Remscéla, they focus on the epic Táin Bó Cúailnge, a cornerstone of Irish literature. With eerie tape manipulations and ghostly singing, it feels less like these songs are being brought to life, more like they are being summoned from a spirit world. Milkweed realise that everything is made to decay, and they use that decay as a primary focus of their practice. It’s part of what makes them the most distinctive and interesting of folk groups.
Michael Hurley – Broken Homes and Gardens (No Quarter)
When Michael Hurley died earlier this year, we lost an underappreciated genius. His parting shot was Broken Homes and Gardens. On paper, it’s a hodgepodge of new songs, re-recordings and covers. In practice, it’s an essential Hurley document, put together in a way that perfectly reflects its creator’s infectious looseness, humour and DIY ethic. Rounded out with organ, sax and clarinet, it’s full of characteristically absurd turns and winningly collaborative spirit, and like all of Hurley’s work, it wears a deep intelligence lightly.
Goblin Band – A Loaf of Wax (Live from MOTH Club) (Broadside Hacks Recordings)
At some point in the last few years, London’s folk scene reimagined some much-needed vitality. At the heart of that resurgence are Goblin Band, a queer, celebratory, roguish quartet who have enlivened traditional music with the breezy irreverence of punk. They have won over audiences with their openness, and their gigs emphasise the rebellious joy of shared experience, so it makes sense that their wonderful debut was recorded live at one of London’s most iconic small venues.
Clara Mann – Rift (The state51 Conspiracy)
Clara Mann kept us waiting a while for this one. From her early days in the Bristol DIY scene, she has been garnering acclaim for her combination of astute lyricism, glass-clear vocals and stark, minimal musicianship. Her debut album more than delivered on the promise: a captivating collection of low-lit songs centred on the themes of rupture, leaving and distance. Comparisons to Vashti Bunyan are valid, but there is another element: something smokier and more European, which might be a result of her French upbringing and her love for Piaf and Brel.
Me Lost Me – This Material Moment (Upset The Rhythm)
Jayne Dent thrives in the chaotic fallout that happens when experimental composition meets folk music, and This Material Moment adds to this already potent mix a newfound songwriting confidence. Elements of Julia Holter, Ghost Box hauntology, Talk Talk and Richard Dawson-like songworlds combine to create an absolutely fearless and highly accomplished album, capped off by Dent’s distinctive and expressive singing, which positively revels in its Newcastle roots.
Ben Lamar Gay – Yowzers (International Anthem)
Gospel, jazz, free improvisation, experimental electronica and earthy blues combine in cornettist Ben Lamar Gay’s latest album for Chicago label International Anthem. But this is no random mish-mash of stylistic elements: Gay processes every distinct piece into a thrilling, semi-abstract whole, where African-American history runs alongside a host of contemporary musical ideas. And on For Breezy (a tribute to label-mate and trumpeter Jaimie Branch, who died in 2022), he has created one of the most moving and emotional pieces of original jazz in recent memory.
Quinie – Forefowk, Mind Me (Upset The Rhythm)
The musical space occupied by Glasgow resident Quinie (Josie Vallely) is ostensibly similar to other artists on this list, like Me Lost Me or Milkweed: that amorphous borderland between the avant-garde and the traditional. But her take on it comes from a slightly different angle: her sound is more organic, more stripped-back, relying as it does on her extraordinary singing, an array of drones, pipes and strings. The songs are largely in Scots, and many come from the Scottish traveller tradition. Each one is defined by its immediacy: they are haunting, stark, sometimes humorous, and often breathtaking.
Richard Dawson – End of the Middle (Domino Records)
Still doing it better than anyone else, Dawson moved on from the epic trilogy of his three previous solo albums to focus on slightly more introspective themes of family, parenthood, and belonging. But as ever, his songwriting is incomparable, full of the most unexpected details, sharp observations and touching moments. He also takes the time to lean into his love of hard rock and power balladry.
Frog – 1000 Variations of the Same Song (Audio Antihero)
The first of two exceptional albums released by the NYC indie legends this year, 1000 Variations is full of their patented twangy barroom nostalgia. Daniel Bateman’s lyrics remain full of a wicked kind of yearning and his voice – sometimes stumbling into that chipped falsetto – is as imperfectly perfect as ever. And, in Did Santa Come, it contains one of the best Christmas songs of recent years.
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