The Best Songs of 2025
ISSUE #322
It takes a while for symptoms of a poisoned well to show. "Generations!" some say, but they're wrong—has it even been three since the atomic bomb? These tumors seem to grow much faster than our parents guessed when they backed their beloved industrialists.
This year was awesome, of course—the future always is—promised (ripped straight?) as it has been from speculative literature. It's a huge slap to the haters that the best songs of 2025 were artificially generated, ripe and ready to fill the coffers of the First Family. That's life, baby—that's liberty, that's the... the... sorry, my hands don't usually quake like this.
10. “Wanderlust” | FKA twigs
Beyond just being a perfect portrait of what it's like to go to bed after the night of your life, I get endless joy out of the execution of a sexy club-ending ballad that kicks into a final salvo of life-affirming breakbeat.
9. “Angel Wings” | Snocaps
Twins are so powerful and mysterious. Hearing Katie Crutchfield harmonize with her sister Alison for the first time since I was listening to P.S. Eliot in college was a profound pleasure that I just didn't anticipate this year.
8. “Yamaha” | Dijon
Dijon is just the best. Who else can say they released an incredible sophomore record and appeard in the best movie (One Battle After Another) in the same year? And that Laura Anderson sample? The Prince chirps? The minced-production spirit of Frank Ocean? Those drum machines could shake every picture off the shelves of your auntie's house.
7. “Short Story” | Bon Iver
I find the micro-song an incredible feat, and I've always loved openers. Listen to the depth of bass here—Vernon’s a certifiable studio wizard, but the real pleasure of "Short Story" comes as a synthesis of whole body of work: there's the intimacy of For Emma all the way to the fourth-dimensional stomp of i,i.
6. “Love Takes Miles” | Cameron Winter
The production here is so layered, so subtle—I just about hit play for the intro alone each time. Winter reminds me of the best of Van Morrison; of Yorke. He's ambling, feral, wailing, true.
5. “Incomprehensible” | Big Thief
For a band as prolific as Big Thief, I know what you’re thinking—they can’t just keep hitting the top ten every year, right?
I agree—but unfortunately, they'd never nailed this mystic kind of glow before. I can hear a lot of lessons Cameron Winter and Geese learned from them, but one thing Lenker has that no one else does is that elegant that turn of phrase that can validate your whole life: "How can beauty that is living be anything but true?"
4. “Townies” | Wednesday
Listen to this. No—listen to her voice. Listen... That's the juice.
3. “Oranges” | Alex G
I never expected this major-label, underrated track to hit me the way it did—many have a deeper love for Alex G than I—but here we are. The best I can explain it? That simple way his fingers flick that pull-off in the intro. It's an effortless riff like something McCartney would spit out. The layered orchestration of the later part—forget about it. The finger cymbal? The textures? It’s tossed off—no, it’s not. It’s perfect.
2. “#1” | Laura Stevenson
This one plumbs such embarrassing depths of feeling, I can barely talk about it. How does it really feel to find true love? I'd heard a million songs before I knew.
Oh, and I thought I knew! I had no idea—what it'd feel like until I actually felt it: when, for all your book learning and prior wisdom, you can't for the life of you put it into the proper words.
It's the thrill she leaves behind her. The condensation on the glass. That's when you know: baby, she's the one.
1. “Islands of Men” | Geese
I couldn't have anticipated this. There hasn’t been something quite like it in a long time. I'm still not fully in love with it, the way I am with Ants from Up There or Diamond Jubilee—but there's a potency to the art that doesn't immediately puppeteer you, yet grabs you with something you can't ignore.
Geese's genius is shambolic; they're loosely tight, unpredictably digestible. I dare say this one's undeniable—not even in its greatness, but in its clear humanity.
Every song I've heard this year felt like it'd be the last. It's the scorch (praise be its name!)—every drive, I blast my mounted phone with max AC. It's a prayer that keeps it from overheating.
As I listened to the long list of songs for this issue, over the many weeks it took me to get my groove back (jury’s still out), I was surprised at how sad this project was making me. I’d been more than ready to revisit the dull bite of those pandemic memories, obviously, but this emotional hedging made it only more of a shock when I was blindsided by intense anti-nostalgia,
We have entered the arbitrary quarter century, which is fascinating because I’ve lived through it all. Remember: 25 years into the 20th, we had The Great Gatsby and “Rhapsody in Blue.”
The best song of 2024 isn’t on Spotify. It’s called “24/7 Heaven,” Diamond Jubilee’s closer. It comes drenched in strings and draped in blue light, at the end of Cindy Lee’s two-hour album. It’s the epitome of sublime, if you ask me—a sweet and perfect fruit, an apple at first sight.
Technically, halfway through the year is next Monday, July 1st. This is a leap year, after all. They’re the only years where there’s an even split in days; the only times the divide falls at midnight, not noon.
That first song you hear? That’s my #1 song of the year. That’s right—for the first time in Earwyrms history, I have made a best-of playlist from one to ten. Grief demands you do something different, and—like Soderbergh producing the 93rd Academy Awards—only time will tell if we fell for seductive folly or landed on love’s new paradigm.
A collection of the best songs from these first several months, featuring Gia Margaret, Jessy Lanza, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, JPEGMAFIA, Danny Brown, Wednesday, ANOHNI and the Johnsons, Jess Williamson, and more.
The trouble with writing about music every week is you don’t actually end up knowing that much more about music. Quite less, in fact. The time, the work, the attempted balance leads to short cuts, and I become more drawn to the oldies and goodies instead of pressing play on something new.
The future is back, baby! Coming at the heels of two bifurcated years—one by a virus, the other its vaccine—2022 stands tall in history as the year the Great Machine roared back to life. Belch ye black smoke into that unbearable blue sky!
Welcome to your Earwyrms Wyrpped for 2022. This year, we explored a lot of new genres here in the dirt, from phonk to roadhouse, dungeon synth to goth. We got through 42 issues together, but your favorites were the ones that sounded like home. Here are the most popular Earwyrms issues of 2022.
A confession: I have not finished a single book all year. I normally average between 15 and 30 by year’s end. And listen, I’ve tried—oh! have I tried.
When did 2021 begin? Was it January 1st? It couldn’t be—that was thirty Jeffreys ago. Was it two weeks after we got the second shot? That was May 1st for me. Half a year went by before I emerged, stunted and shaking.
This is the year of our reclaimed youth: I’ve loved more skate pop and power emo this year than I have since Earwyrms began. Last year around this time, music’s big players were coping with the pandemic by dropping albums early or cashing in on nostalgia while young bands waited in the wings and prayed there’d be a future to play through.
We're here—I'll get right to it, but I want to say thank you for reading. Also, I've put them all into a playlist arranged from top to bottom, for whenever you have six hours to kill. Now, for the final leg of the tour:
As we enter the Top 50, you know the routine—this is not a race but a retrospective, and while I do admit that the closer we get to #1, the closer these songs get to my heart, I will not be handing out any trophies.
As I said before, lists can be as prescriptive as they are restrictive if they are read as a hierarchy. Mine should not be; they're subject to the whims of my everyday thoughts and feelings (two of my most favorite things—until we reach the limit of my being and encounter yours). I intend to serve and share, not impose. This is less a competition than a hundred-course meal for the ears, each song a specialty dish on a gourmet menu.
Know that lists like these are flawed by their very nature, limiting art the same way pinning an identity to your infinite spirit will limit what you feel you're able to become. With that in mind, these numbers are not a hierarchy—they are more like tree tags marking a path through a dazzling forest. Think of this more as a guided tour of nature than a tournament or competition.
One of the most frequent questions I get is about how I’ve been able to pick up temporary work throughout my travels without falling afoul of the law.
One of the most frequent questions I get is about how I’ve been able to pick up temporary work throughout my travels without falling afoul of the law.
I can't leave without saying that I lament this had to be on Spotify because it meant I couldn't put Joanna Newsom on the list. Just know that there's a good chance she would've cracked the Top 10, and go listen to Have One on Me if you never have before.
A large chunk of the Top 40 are love songs, a thing I guess I'm just obsessed with. With music being the most directly emotional art, it's natural that this medium best explores these weird heart feelings.
We're getting to the hardest part now—do I really have to choose between two masterpieces, to arbitrarily put one over another? I do. Which is why I must remind you: these opinions are not definitive; they're not even sound. Best songs are as subjective as bagel preferences.
Lots of sad ones this time—sorry!—that's just how the chips fell this round. As I said last week, this project is not meant to be an edict from some supreme musical being, just a catalog of what this idiot kept coming back to over and over since 2010. Ultimately a narrow purview, but maybe you'll hear something you like.
I could say a bunch of sweeping things about the past ten years, but the truth is a decade is hard to package together coherently. I will say that ten years is fun because it's all about what sticks with you.
Here are my twenty favorite songs of the year so far, in reverse order to build suspense. Hold on tight!
To kick off this month of Top 10 Countdowns, I wanted to share the ten best movies of the year. They're more my favorites than the objective best, which is true of all lists, but of this one especially because I didn't get time to see many movies during the tumult of the year.
Listen to my favorite songs of the past six months so you can enjoy them before the summer is over. I wrote about them below in classic backwards-list order, and the playlist mirrors it.
This year was awesome, of course—the future always is—promised (ripped straight?) as it has been from speculative literature. It's a huge slap to the haters that the best songs of 2025 were artificially generated, ripe and ready to fill the coffers of the First Family. That's life, baby—that's liberty, that's the... the... sorry, my hands don't usually quake like this.