#1 Dijon - Baby
There are a lot of words I could use to describe what Dijon has made here. Chaotic, experimental, elegant, nostalgic, wholesome, reflective. I’ve tried all of them in my head, and none of them really stick.
Because this one feels personal. Not just to him, but to me.
Absolutely wasn’t just an album I liked, it kind of became a marker for a time in my life. It settled in without asking, and before I realised it, it was my favourite album. So coming into Baby, I think I expected something that held onto that feeling. Something familiar.
But he didn’t do that. And I’m glad he didn’t.
Baby feels more open, more uncertain. Like it’s figuring itself out as it goes. It’s not trying to recreate anything, it’s just documenting where he is now. The highs and lows of a relationship, the weight of change, and this huge, life-shifting moment of bringing a baby into the world.
Listening to it, I don’t feel like I’m hearing a finished product. I feel like I’m being let into something still in motion.
The sound moves in the same way. Sometimes it’s messy, almost uncomfortable in how loose the structure is. Other times it slips into something softer, something that reminds me of older sounds, like 90s hip hop, warm and familiar in a way that feels almost nostalgic without trying too hard.
I think that’s why it stays with me. It doesn’t feel polished or resolved. It feels honest in a way that’s a bit harder to pin down.
And maybe that’s why I connect with it more than I expected. It meets me where I am, not where I thought I wanted it to be.
#2 Bon Iver - SABLE, fABLE
I’ve never been a deep Bon Iver listener in the traditional sense. I’ve always circled around the edges, features, collaborations, moments where his voice shows up and reshapes someone else’s song. That’s usually where I’ve felt it most.
It wasn’t until 22, A Million that something really clicked for me. I remember it sounding disjointed, almost abrasive at first, like I couldn’t quite get a grip on it. But over time it settled into something completely different. Now it’s one of those albums I go back to without thinking, something that feels oddly comforting despite how strange it once sounded.
SABLE, fABLE sits somewhere between that and For Emma, Forever Ago. It’s not pushing as far into experimentation, but it’s not retreating either. It just feels open. Softer around the edges. Easier to sit with.
What stands out most is how complete it feels. Every track earns its place. There’s no instinct to skip ahead, no moment that feels like filler. It moves with a kind of quiet confidence, even when it’s at its most understated.
There are a few moments that really lock in for me, “Day One” with Dijon and Flock of Dimes, “Things Behind Things Behind Things,” and “Speyside.”
I don’t think this is his most daring record. But it might be one of his most approachable. And for me, that balance is exactly what makes it stay.
#3 JPEGMAFIA - I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU
I’ve been listening to JPEGMAFIA for a while now, but it’s never fully been a constant. Most of his albums only really land with me in fragments, a couple of tracks that stick while the rest blur past.
It wasn’t until Scaring the Hoes with Danny Brown that everything really clicked. That record felt like his best work at the time. The production was chaotic but controlled, sharp without feeling overdone.
I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU pushes that further by feeling strangely cohesive. Each track shifts direction, but nothing feels out of place. It holds together in a way that makes it feel fully intentional.
“Either on or off the drugs” stands out as the pivot point. It pulls the energy down into something more reflective after a stretch of intensity. The idea underneath it is consistency, that he remains the same person whether he is on substances or sober, but it also opens a more vulnerable space in the record. The DMX sample, “it’s dark and hell is hot,” alongside “don’t rely on other men,” deepens that weight.
What makes the album work is that balance between chaos and control. It still feels like JPEGMAFIA at full force, but more unified than anything he has done before.
#4 Wet Leg - Moisturizer
I only really discovered Wet Leg this year through my partner. It was one of those introductions that didn’t feel like a recommendation so much as something that just started appearing around me until I realised I was already listening.
I had heard of them before, but never really paid attention in a meaningful way. It felt like background music I never quite stepped into.
Moisturizer changed that in a way I did not expect. It still carries the same sharp humour and playful energy they are known for, but it feels more grounded than I was prepared for. Less like a breakout moment and more like a band settling into themselves.
Similar to Dijon’s Baby, it has become tied to a specific period of change in my life. Something about how it first entered my world through someone close, and then quietly stayed there, makes it feel inseparable from that time now.
#5 Oklou - Choke Enough
I discovered Oklou this year through choke enough, and was really drawn to the nostalgic vibe of it. It reminded me of Boards of Canada and Oneohtrix Point Never, but with soft, soothing vocals layered over it.
A lot of people describe it as distant or “underwater,” and that feels right. It pulls from those early internet and Y2K spaces, but instead of recreating them, it feels more like their echo.
It ends up being an easy listen in the best way andcomforting in how low pressure it is.
NOTES
Selected Albums 2025
[ Index ]
26.11.2025
[ Entry ]
2025 felt bigger than I expected, and a lot of that came down to the music I found along the way, shaping moments and giving them something to settle into. This is a small list of the albums that stayed with me, the ones I kept coming back to without really thinking.
