That’s a wrap on 2025. Thanks once again for joining me as we discover and celebrate another year of modern synthpop. We’ve already named The Sound Veil Society the year’s best new act, watched the year’s best music videos, and counted down my favorite songs of the year. For the coup de grâce, let’s count down my 25 favorite albums of the year.
It’s been a challenging year marked by fear and disappointment, acts of resistance, and glimmers of hope. As always, music remains the salve that shapes our feelings, helps us through the tough times, and offers us something to hold onto. The albums that achieve that are the ones that sit with me most.
I’ll see you in 2026. Stay tuned for my monthly song countdowns, new music Fridays, interviews, and more. Follow me on Facebook if you’d like to keep up with new posts.
My husband and I have been kicking ourselves since February for not making it to Sweden for Kite’s magnificent ice-skating concert at Avicii Arena. Fortunately, a live album (not always my thing) captures every crackling detail. The hometown heroes run through a greatest-hits set that includes early material like “Johnny Boy,” monumental cuts like “Dance Again,” and even this year’s “Heartless Places.” A few songs receive subtle rearrangements for the live setting, lending them fresh detail. The epic dirge “Losing,” for instance, finds Henric De la Cour (one of several guests) taking lead. In every ad-libbed yelp from singer Nicklas Stenemo, you can hear just how much fun Kite is having. We won’t miss their next spectacle.
Listen: Official Store | Spotify
Where does synthpop end and dance music begin? It’s a question I wrestle with listening to Dina Summer’s Girls Gang. The German project—made up of DJ/producers from Kalipo and Local Suicide—operates primarily in club territory, blending electronic dance music, darkwave, and post-punk into something built for late-night mixes. Tracks like “Alien” and “Halkidiki” thrive on thumping beats, showcasing the project’s reliance on spoken-word bits. The album moves further into my wheelhouse when it leans into more traditional song structures and sung choruses. “Promise Me,” the album’s clear high point, elevates the record with sharp songwriting and irresistible gothic touchstones that recall the mighty Sisters of Mercy.
On his solo debut, Lord of the Lost frontman Chris Harms steps away from the gothic-rock bombast of his primary project for Euro-synth bombast. 1980 trades guitars for vintage synthpop and Eurodance textures that suit the album’s retro romance. The album’s strongest moments come courtesy of its collaborations: “The Grey Machines” features VNV Nation’s Ronan Harris in an anti-authoritarian duet built on twinkling pads and charging beats, while “Madonna of the Night” features Solar Fake’s Sven Friedrich for raucous choruses and vintage sound effects. Elsewhere, tracks like “I Love You” and “She Called Me Diaval” combine sweeping melodrama with charming melodies.
The secret to X Marks the Pedwalk’s enduring longevity lies in their evolution—maturing their sound while adding new collaborators like singer Estefania. It’s a full-blown family affair on Insomnia, as their son (who records as LMX) contributes lyrics for the first time. As ever, XMTP’s production impresses with crisp electronics and strong, confident vocals. The album opens with “A Heart in the Dark,” a somber mid-tempo track well suited for an album about late-night restlessness. Thrilling bangers like “Another Love” and “Automatic Hero” will wake you right up, but the heart of the album is the lovely, inspiring “Light Your Mind,” which sees the project evolve once more, embracing electropop melody more than ever.
Lizette Lizette is living the dream. The Swedish/Peruvian artist has long fantasized of moving to New York to become a legendary Club Kid. This year, they basically did it. During the rollout of fourth album LaQueer, Lizette lived in New York—at the iconic Chelsea Hotel no less—and made their US debut. The Club Kid persona prevails, but the record broadens the scope of previous Lizette albums that often focused on gender identity and queer nightlife. Here, they’re exploring everything from the daily grind of work to the inevitability of death. LaQueer feels more introspective and softer than previous releases. Highlights like “If I Let You Go” showcase Lizette’s vocal grace, while “No Turning Back” reveals smart production instincts with an exquisite, ping-ponging synth riff.
It’s hard not to think of VNV Nation’s twelfth studio album Construct as a missed opportunity. Heavily promoted as the lighter half of a yin/yang set, its counterpart, Destruct, never materialized. As a standalone disc, Construct often feels redundant and overly sentimental. At least one moment is deeply misguided—the be-silent message of “Silence Speaks” lands poorly in the age of Trump. And yet, there are enough quality songs here to keep it from being dismissed outright. The twinkling pads of “The Spaces Between,” the sleek sci-fi narrative of “Station 21,” the bittersweet lift of “Save Me” all deliver familiar VNV appeal. It’s a solid record, yet one that ultimately feels incomplete.
I had the chance to see Dancing Plague at this year’s Dark Force Fest, and it cemented my fascination with this singular project. It also cemented my husband’s disdain—he went outside to smoke cigarettes. Conor Knowles’s cavernous vocals remain divisive, in my household at least. Hearing them in person, it’s hard to believe that demon voice comes from such a nice-looking young man. But contrast is the cornerstone of Dancing Plague’s work: deep, rumbling basslines that roil the crowd set against piercing synth melodies, all anchored by that unmistakable voice. Across Domain’s eight songs—from booming standouts like “With You I I Am Nothing” to the sinister closer “Veins”—Dancing Plague channels personal turmoil with punishing impact.
There’s something irresistibly charming about the way E:Lect decorate their songs. Blips, bleeps, and pixel-bright bloops skitter through the mix of Forgotten Future, giving the album a bouncy pulse that’s playful and modern. The record really glows during an impressive mid-album stretch. Previously released singles “Secrets” and “It Doesn’t Matter” showcase the Swedish duo’s songwriting chops, “Collision” adds tonal dimension, and the faster-paced “Anger” injects urgency with ping-ponging sound effects. That run peaks with album standout “You,” where E:Lect’s fizzy sound design aligns beautifully with their heartfelt sentiment.
After years of honing her craft as a collaborator, Mari Kattman takes the reins. Writing, producing, and performing Year of the Katt herself, Mari sounds energized and purposeful, moving freely between styles and asserting herself with a clear sense of authorship. The record leans harder into thumping electro than the melodic synthpop you may expect from her Helix project with Tom Shear. Her range remains her defining strength—from the fiery aggression of “PunisHER” to the slower, more reflective “Ascending,” and the futurepop pulse of the excellent “Take Myself Back.” Songs like “Take” and “Typical Girl” confront what it means to be a woman navigating a male-dominated scene, with Mari embracing labels like “difficult” as an act of resistance. Even at its most confrontational, the album never forgets the importance of hooks—choruses land cleanly, melodies stick, and the momentum rarely flags.
You’re gonna want popcorn for this one. The Brides of the Black Room is a mysterious collective of Swedish music vets who approach songwriting like episodic storytelling. Each album—they call them seasons—tells part of a larger narrative about a coven of witches. Commander is the second season, a rousing sequel to the events that concluded their debut, Blood and Fire. It begins with the sultry, seductive “One Flash of Light,” which plays like a Bond-style opening theme. Faster-paced songs like “Shadow Play” could soundtrack a thrilling action sequence, while the electro-blues swagger of “Tension Rises” feels tailor-made for the closing credits. If that sounds like a lot to swallow, fear not. The lyrics are broad enough for each track to stand on its own, though immersive listeners will be richly rewarded.
German producer Gerrit Thomas remains one of the defining forces shaping today’s dark scene, whether through his work with Funker Vogt and Eisfabrik, or behind the scenes producing acts like Alienare and Alex Braun. It’s a small miracle he found time to revive his 25-year-old project Fictional, best known for the club staple “Blue Lights.” New album Some Great Constructions does little of that early futurepop sound, instead channeling vintage Depeche Mode textures with bubbling synth pads and clanking hi-hats. A rotating cast of vocalists gives the album welcome variety. Rocco Schulschenk of N-Frequency features on the infectious standout, “Crossroads,” though Christian Schottstädt of DM cover band Forced to Mode appears most often, bringing easygoing, sing-along charm to highlights like “Your Whisper” and “My Tears Will Fall.”
Listen: Official Store | Spotify
It’s been fascinating to watch Chicago trio Pixel Grip go from cult favorite to genuine ascendant. Over the past year, their profile exploded—fueled by relentless touring, rap sample beefs, and the simple fact that more people are finally catching on. Percepticide may not be as thematically cohesive as their excellent Arena album, but it compensates by broadening the band’s range. Opening ballad “Crows Feast” is a striking left turn, but once the furnace ignites, Pixel Grip settle into their signature mode of high-voltage, sexually charged aggression. “Bet You Do” and “Split” are undeniable bangers that pair thumping industrial menace with Rita Lukea’s lacerating vocals. The album’s most talked-about track, “Stamina,” is pure filth: “Daddy, come over, fuck me over and over.” But like everything else on the album, it’s genuine bonkers fun.
On their second album, Greek band CYLiX emerge as a promising new voice in modern synthpop. Beta Life draws from a broad palette that moves fluidly between stompy, club-ready tracks and more traditional synthpop melodies, giving the record a welcome sense of variety. Thick, rubbery beats anchor heavier moments like “Devotion,” while warmer, melodic passages reveal a softer side rooted in romantic melancholy—a mood that runs consistently across the album. “Never Mind” shifts gears with a sharper cadence that adds depth and contrast. Elsewhere, the New Wave-leaning synths of “End of Decay” bring texture, and “A Dying Love” showcases the richness and warmth of CYLiX’s vocals.
Hatif continue to carve out one of the most distinctive lanes in modern synthpop. Small States, an album that rewards close listening, finds the Swedish duo building songs from intricate sound design and unusual textures, like the squishy synth rattle of “Direction” and the pitter-patter rhythm of “Take the Bait.” Most of the tracks thunder with thumping basslines that feel especially vibrant on quality headphones. Middle Eastern motifs remain central to the project’s distinctive sound, but Hatif are smart to include a variety of tempos and tones. “Broken Bucket” adds a hint of guitar strumming against another mesmerizing low-end throb, while the closing track “As If You Were Sworn” pushes into futuristic, knob-twisting territory over a floor-shaking beat that sounds unlike anything else on the album.
Residual Light, the first album in 15 years from underground faves Rupesh Cartel, is easy to get lost in. Understandably so, they recorded parts of it in a van parked beside a remote Swedish lake. That meditative energy seeps into the music, especially toward the end, when sublime tracks like “Pipe Dream” and “Vault” lean into atmospheric, hypnotic sound design rather than the more lilting melodies of earlier highlights like “Phantom Battles” and “Down This Road.” Most of the songs on Residual Light move at a slower, moodier pace, often drifting into deeply reflective territory. The production—as always—remains immaculate. The Swedish duo’s sound feels miraculously modern, with twinkling synth arrangements that mesmerize with a calm, soothing grace.
BlakLight’s long-in-the-works fourth album, The Haunting of Us, finds the California trio sounding emotionally bruised yet creatively assured. Following two defining COVID-era releases, you might think things are looking up, yet the band wrestle with darker material and deeper anxieties. Opener “Everything’s Gone Wrong” sets the mood right away with grim, cinematic tones and elegant orchestral flourishes that add new mystique to Adam Collier’s signature bubbling production. That expanded palette carries through the record on standouts like “Leave a Light On” and the undeniable “Buried Alive.” The title track, a personal favorite, introduces unfamiliar textures and striking lyrics about the sky going out and time standing still, while new member Omar Quiñones’ harmonies deepen the song’s impact.
Some Kind of Start, the debut album form Swedish newcomers Rymdverket, captures the rare spark when two gifted artists click. The band’s name translates to “the space agency” and mid-album track “One Small Step for Man” samples a rocket launch, demonstrating a fascination with space exploration. But it’s human connection that drives the music. Singer Linda Ganters is an exceptional presence, her voice rich and expressive, recalling greats like Annie Lennox. The diverse album glides from traditional synthpop of “Another” to bursts of unexpected techno like “Abide With Me,” only to be soothed by the somber melancholy of “Teardrops or Rain.” And then there’s “Your Truth,” a world-weary lament about how people’s questionable politics—denying climate change, demonizing refugees—can drive us apart.
Swedish artist Emmon takes her evolution further on Icon, pushing more into thumping EBM and electro-industrial territory. Where Recon traded electroclash for harder body music, Icon doubles down on that direction, weaving in sounds that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Nitzer Ebb or Front Line Assembly record. The beats hit with relentless force, and Emmon’s vocals sound sharp and commanding, riding high above the machinery. Color makes frequent appearances, first on opening track “Neon Brown,” later on “Shades of Blue,” whose pipe-clanking percussion and sticky chorus make it one of the record’s highlights. Elsewhere, “Decisions” pounds with a chant-like hook, “No Man’s Land” tilts toward melodic synthpop without sacrificing tension, and “Blood on the Ceiling” explodes with a progressive house riff that cuts straight through the mix.
On their debut album Wire and Monuments, international trio Pale Meridians craft melody-forward songs about intimacy, isolation, and survival in the modern city. Early singles “Solitary Heart” and “Against the Tide” hinted at their refined sound, but the album’s standout is “Your Only Friend,” a warm, richly textured track that pairs New Romantic elegance with quietly devastating lyrics about loneliness and devotion. Midway through, “Calamity” marks the record’s boldest turn, trading traditional song structure for a bone-shaking thwump and swirling, atmospheric electronics. Wire and Monuments doesn’t just meet expectations—it confirms Pale Meridians as a band with real staying power.
Rotersand’s Don’t Become the Thing You Hated arrives at a crucial moment when divisive politics and cultural exhaustion threaten to strip us of our humanity. The album’s core messages—resisting cynicism, rising above—land sharply on tracks like “Higher Ground” and especially the paired centerpieces “I Will Find You” and “Don’t Stop Believing,” lilting reminders of the power of human connection. Electrifying pre-release singles like “16 Devils” and “Sexiness of Slow” don’t serve the theme as directly, but offer potent reminders of the German duo’s production finesse. The sounds are varied and thrilling. From the spacey trance arpeggios of “Father Ocean” to the big rumba breakdown of club stomper “Private Firmament (I Fell for You),” Rotersand’s ability to fuse social commentary with dancefloor bliss remains unmatched.
Paradise is a vibe. Fresh off a lineup change, the New York-based trio Bootblacks blend guitar and synth in classic darkwave fashion, but do so with densely layered production that feels rich and complex, lush and romantic. The album defies easy categorization. “Only You,” for instance, rumbles with intricate drum programming courtesy of industrial legend Chris Vrenna before snapping back into New Wave territory with sultry saxophone. Sax makes several appearances across the album, constantly reminding you of its ’80s pedigree. Every track bristles with intrigue, from the buzzing electronics of “Can You Feel It? (Anymore)” to the soaring intensity of “Leipzig.” Paradise captures a band newly energized, fully in command of their sound.
Welcome to the show. On third album Afterlife, UK duo Promenade Cinema continue to flirt with theater and performance motifs, especially on closing curtain call “The Play Descends,” which captivates with eerie elegance. This is, however, their darkest production yet. Moonlight, mystery, and shadow recur across the album. The clamoring chimes that ring through opening track “The Abyssal” set the tone right away for what’s a dark and mysterious affair, yet always refined and magnificent. Songs like “Under Review” and “Play With Fate” glimmer with sublime soundcraft, their glistening bleeps and hovering pads whirl around Emma Barson’s voice in a captivating dance. Afterlife is a fitting follow-up to Exit Guides and Living Ghosts, deepening Promenade Cinema’s tonal palette and concluding a trilogy of some of the finest synthpop of our modern era.
Across four albums, Alex Reed’s Seeming project has explored end-times anxiety with rich detail and complex narratives. On The World, he turns more inward than ever, examining how those anxieties shape us personally, often through the bonds we form with other people. A title like The World suggests something vast, yet Seeming reframes it with unexpected intimacy—the people we choose to love are, after all, our world. The ferocious opening track “A Failure of Imagination” establishes the album’s emotional core with lines like “There’s a lot of strange love / That doesn’t fit into the way love’s done,” affirming nontraditional relationships while condemning the world for rebuking them. That focus carries into songs like “Any Other World,” which finds Alex declaring “I will come back to you” across twinkling chimes and dense, yearning sound design. Later, “Assassin’s Lovesong” devastates with delicate tones and timeless elegance—it is quite simply one of the loveliest songs I’ve ever heard. Sonically, The World is varied and unpredictable, moving from the electrified menace of “Zebra Tramples Horse Trainer” to chiming bells, breathy textures, and a quietly haunting wind instrument that drives “Spiral.” But for all its complexity, the album’s message is disarmingly simple. The World doesn’t tell us how to survive the end times, it reminds us that surrounding yourself with people you love makes it all bearable.
Assemblage 23 has long excelled at translating emotional unrest into electronic form, but Null feels uniquely attuned to the moment it arrives in. It’s an album that doesn’t flinch from the anger, exhaustion, and moral confusion of the year around us. Instead, it validates those feelings, giving shape to the dread and cynicism many of us carry. Songs like “Tolerate” and “Overthrow” crackle with confrontation, while “Lunatics” pushes A23 into more aggressive territory than they’ve explored in years. But what elevates Null beyond mere catharsis is Tom Shear’s refusal to let the record sit in despair. Again and again, the album pivots toward connection and resolve. “Believe” insists that hope is worth holding onto, “Normal” extends a helping hand, and the closing track “Waited” finds that love is, above all else, a triumph. That balance gives Null its unique power. Assemblage 23 hasn’t just captured the emotional temperature of 2025, he’s offered a way through it.
It’s no secret that alternative nightlife has largely declined since its heyday in the ’80s and ’90s. Dating apps, broader acceptance of queer identities, gentrification, and government crackdowns have all played a role. On his seventh studio album Shadow Dancer, Swedish artist Tobias Bernstrup honors those spaces and the “creatures of the night” who inhabit them, delivering an incredibly cohesive and moving record that dazzles with sentiment and significance. The record opens with a Cold War–era quote from former president Ronald Reagan, placing us firmly in the ’80s, then practically explodes with the glitter-bomb electronics of “Chiaroscuro.” References to the era surface again in the brick-throwing rallying cry of “Breakout” and in the magnificent tribute to New York’s legendary Jackie 60 nightclub, all delivered with pulsating beats and twinkling Italo bleeps that have long defined Tobias’s sound. The album’s finest moments—the darkly alluring title track and the aforementioned “Breakout”—feel especially empowering, vivid reminders to embrace yourself, fight oppression, and never stop dancing. “Who’s gonna save you / When the hammer strikes?” Tobias asks in another monumental moment. He responds with incredible uplift: “Don’t let them take your soul… ’cause you are a legend.” It’s explicit affirmation of self-worth in a hostile world, one that echoes through the underground spaces the record celebrates. Shadow Dancer is a potent reminder of the power of the underground, of nightlife, and of the beautiful people who made it all magical.
