Putting this list together seems to take me a little longer each January, but I firmly believe that – my ‘winning’ approach to organisation aside – it’s simply because I’m privileged to discover so much more great music every year. Without any further delay, then, here are the (20)25 releases I’m keen to bring to your attention. I hope you find something you can’t do without.

We recommend buying many of the releases below (mainly the classical ones) from Presto Music. Where this doesn’t apply, though, I’ve included a link to buy – ideally one that sensibly benefits the artist, such as Bandcamp. Where I’ve already written about the artist or album on this site, I’ve brought over an extract from that piece and placed it in quotation marks. But of course, part of the pleasure of compiling this list is the opportunity it gives me to spread the word about releases I didn’t manage to cover at the time. Here goes!

Mulatu Astatke: ‘Mulatu plays Mulatu’

Whether or not his latest run of concerts really proves to be his ‘farewell tour’, the great pioneer of the ‘Ethio-jazz’ sound has timed this release perfectly – returning to some of his greatest classic tunes with new big band arrangements featuring musicians from both Ethiopia and the UK. There’s something gloriously laidback about this record, each track an ‘old-timer’, allowed to weather with age. But for whatever magical, cosmic reason, this vibe does nothing to dilute the funkiness – as you will find out listening to the patient head of steam built up over epics like ‘Zèlèsènga Dèwèl’ and ‘Nètsanèt’, or the restless stabs of ‘Yèkatit’. The production by Dexter Story is full of atmospheric detail, allowing you to marvel to your heart’s content at the mix of modern and traditional instruments, while just absorbing the unique blend of the whole shebang. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Mary Bevan & Joseph Middleton: ‘Elegy’

“…a heartfelt, thoughtfully-programmed recital disc that – aside from being a beautiful listen – also shows us something of art’s quieter powers: that living inside music, allowing it to respond to you as much as the reverse, can summon its healing qualities … ‘Elegy’ is certainly a fine tribute to [Bevan’s] father: what a testament to his memory that it can inspire this creative response. However, it is also remarkable for how Bevan – assisted by Middleton’s keen, supportive emotional intelligence – communicates that response and performs with such empathy and resilience that its balm becomes universal.”

Bitter Ruin: ‘Arches & Enemies’

“…after a decade widening their experiences and immersing themselves in writing and production activity, the Bitter Ruin 2025 model now feels super-charged, ramped up, crackling with confidence and overflowing with ambition and creative energy … It often feels as if any given track burns through three songs’ worth of ideas: the duo switch effortlessly from gliding delicacy to depth-charge heaviness, slow burn to sudden explosion …It’s a genuine thrill to have such an original, exciting band reappear virtually out of nowhere, with an album as accomplished and rewarding as this.” (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Lavinia Blackwall: ‘The Making’

Trembling Bells (RIP) were one of my favourite bands of all time, but thankfully it’s hard to mourn too sorrowfully when its former members produce such consistently great music. In particular, singer-songwriter Blackwall and her band evoke a kind of folk-rock golden-era vibe refreshed with a power-pop energy and classically-trained, soaring vocal melodies. The spirit of her free-ranging former band is still there, but this is work with a sharper focus: rhythmically tight and tunes to spare. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Claire Booth, Andrew Matthews-Owen: ‘Paris 1913: L’Offrande lyrique’

A treasure trove of mélodies built around a fascinating idea: using Ravel’s and Debussy’s 1913 settings of Mallarmé as a starting point, what were the other songs being written and performed at the time? Which composers moved in their Paris orbit? The duo’s snapshot captures a scene seemingly on a pivot between salon-sensuality and forward-facing abstraction – with all points in-between. Fans of French song should urgently investigate, as much for the heart-stopping treatment of Hahn’s classic ‘À Chloris’ as for the world première recordings of works by Durey and Ropartz.

Anouar Brahem: ‘After the Last Sky’

Oud virtuoso Brahem returns after a lengthy absence with two players present and correct from 2017’s ‘Blue Maqams’, Django Bates on piano and Dave Holland on double bass. However, where that album featured drums from the late Jack DeJohnette, this new release marks Brahem’s first collaboration with cellist Anja Lechner. As a result, ‘After the Last Sky’ inevitably has a slightly more mournful, introspective feel (no surprise given the world events on Brahem’s mind while making it) but that takes nothing away from the solace and beauty the music affords. Brahem had apparently wanted to work with Lechner for some time, and is generous with the writing, the cello opening and closing the album as the oud stays silent, blurring the global/classical feel of this magnificent record.

Tom Cawley: ‘Oktopus, vol.1’

“You could be forgiven for thinking, in the first few seconds at least, that the piano is enduring a kind of Cronenbergian body-horror experiment, with an array of gadgetry, switches and wires occupying the music shelf. But on closer inspection, the Frankensteinway is actually rather streamlined, with one main machine at the heart of the endeavour: a multi-purpose marvel called the Octatrack. … beats aside, every sound we hear through the on-stage speakers comes directly from the piano, but processed, altered, looped or rearranged depending on how Cawley has programmed, and then chooses to manipulate, the Octatrack controls. What comes out depends on what goes in.

What we hear is an exciting synthesis of acoustic and electronic sound. While the piano itself remains the lead instrument, steering us through the mix, Cawley simultaneously generates settings ranging from shimmering warmth to techno clatter. With both hands darting between keyboard and circuit-board, it can appear like the pianist is playing a game of musical chess with himself – but if he is, he’s winning. Cawley’s mastery of the machinery is such that every sonic development sounds as if it belongs.”

At last, Cawley released an album of the material from the gig I described above. Magnificent! (Download from Apple Music.)

Josienne Clarke: ‘Far From Nowhere’

Clarke has spoken openly about her disillusionment with the music industry, leading her to retreat into a forest outpost and record an album in isolated conditions, against a deadline. The approach has paid off handsomely, playing to her many strengths. Her voice has a warm, conversational purity, soft at the edges, full of heartbreak and healing. (It’s no surprise that, alongside her own work, Clarke tours a show of Sandy Denny songs. She inhabits them so well, it’s as if they’ve been granted a second life.) Her supremely assured guitar accompaniments evoke lead and rhythm sections echoing through the space. Any supposed imperfections add to the album’s power – for example, the haunted-background noises on ‘The Mahler Horror Story’ – and some of the recording ‘admin’ left in just draw you in further. A bruised but bold artist delivers a definitive statement, shot through with delicacy and determination. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Drudkh: ‘Shadow Play’

This Ukrainian band have often brought an almost art-song approach to black metal, setting or adapting words of revered poets from their homeland. On this latest release, perhaps understandably, there seems to be a more personal, even emotional layer to this coldest of genres: if you are prepared to surrender yourself to the record’s thunderous riffs, furious beats and distorted vocals, an overwhelming kind of reward awaits. Anguish and rage, made into music. (Buy from the record label.)

The Gesualdo Six & Matilda Lloyd: ‘Radiant Dawn’

This collaboration between the vocal ensemble and trumpeter Lloyd might seem unexpected at first, but as leader Owain Park explains in his booklet notes, the combination goes back centuries. That said, this album is not really about the past. Nor – to get this out of the way – does it resemble the famed ‘Officium’ series by Jan Garbarek and the Hilliard Ensemble. If you like those, you’ll probably love this, true. But those records gave us a choral/jazz crossover that investigated how those worlds could collide and interact. Not so here. ‘Radiant Dawn’ – as its title suggests – faces the future. Alongside some oldsters, it foregrounds both existing and specially-commissioned work by nine living composers, four of them women. Lloyd’s poised, precise playing lights up over half the album, fully integrated into the arrangements, taking certain ‘vocal’ parts as an equal to each of the Six. It’s an innovative, exciting release, wholly within its established idiom while showing ways to take it forward.

Matt Howden / Keith Howden: ‘Language for Stone’

“This latest collaboration between violinist and songwriter Matt Howden and his poet and artist father Keith … is an extraordinary achievement: in its sonic ambition, its storytelling, its joy in language, its historical reach. A concept album, for sure: but precise, brisk, intricate and forthright.

There are a number of reasons why ‘Language for Stone’ is an especially satisfying record. To begin with, it sounds incredible. Matt blends his signature violin/electronics with samples of [musical] stones … creating a whole new layer of percussive melody that punctuates the more familiar swirl of the strings. Yet there’s still a space, an echo in the production that resonates either into the earth, or upwards, evoking a limitless sky. Keith’s voice is a gift to his verse, his accent and authority unmistakeable and irreplaceable. If you wanted the earth to declare itself, you couldn’t ask for a finer mouthpiece.” (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Tunde Jegede: ‘Moon Waters’

“As a huge fan of solo kora music, my personal highlight was Jegede’s unaccompanied performance of ‘Moon Waters’ – a suite that features as the centrepiece on Jegede’s new album of the same name. One thing (among many) I love about this latest album is the ‘low end’: for all the sparkling, gossamer-light melodic runs, the bass lines feel ‘heavy’, like anchors: a superb ‘headphones record’.” (Buy from Apple Music.)

Barb Jungr and her Trio: ‘Hallelujah on Desolation Row’

“One reason Jungr is such a successful interpreter of songs by men is her ability to convey strength and tenderness at the same time, laying bare their innate vulnerability without sacrificing any courage or resilience … [They are] perfect subjects for Jungr, whose voice is all benefit without limitations. Her warm, rich tone brings such fluidity and flexibility to the melodies that the effect really is as close as you can get to that utopia of ‘hearing them again for the first time’.” (Buy from the artist. Signed copies!)

The Necks: ‘Disquiet’

Writing about the Necks in concert: “It might look like jazz, but it doesn’t really sound like it: because the music develops through repetition and restructuring at the most intricate level, it’s no wonder the band are also linked with minimalist classical music or ambient / abstract sound art. Except, of course, that none of the material is through-composed: they produce it there and then, in front of you, and afterwards (unless someone is rolling a tape somewhere) it’s gone forever.”

In the studio, this extraordinary band customise their improvisational approach with additional instruments and effects. ‘Disquiet’, a three-CD magnum opus, is the ultimate deep dive – so far – into this alternative Necks universe. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

North Sea Radio Orchestra: ‘Special Powers’

Deftly side-stepping any obvious reference points, this chamber folk band (imagine if the Oyster Band played the Penguin Cafe – or something) returned after some years at sea with a dazzling assembly, ranging through stately classical reverie, to just-passing-through instrumentals, to heaven- and earthly harmonies then finally a closing prog epic. Full of comfort and reassurance, while blindingly original and ceaselessly surprising. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Rebeca Omordia: ‘John Ireland – Piano Works’

Alongside her ongoing initiatives to raise awareness of African art music (the African Concert Series, now resident at London’s Wigmore Hall, and the essential ‘African Pianism’ releases on SOMM), Omordia has a particular affinity for British music. Previously, she has guested on discs by Mark Bennington (Vaughan Williams, Matthew-Walker), and recorded new works by Julie Cooper and Errollyn Wallen. It’s great to hear her stretch out into a full-length solo album dedicated to Ireland. Put aside any expectations from the nostalgic landscape art of bygone British classical releases: the striking monochrome portrait gracing this CD is very apt. Omordia plays with sensitivity rather than sentiment, and her characteristic flair for grounding fluid, impressionistic melodies with a robust, unshakeable sense of rhythm makes this music vividly present.

Jo Quail: ‘Notan’

Followers of this remarkable cellist-composer will have appreciated the way her work has evolved in recent years, expanding in all directions from her solo-with-live-electronics practice to increasingly ambitious, symphonic commissions – notably 2022’s album-length suite ‘The Cartographer’ and last year’s anthem for the Dutch city, Enschede. ‘Notan’ distils this breadth of virtuosity back into a selection of solo wonders, making it both another thrilling stage on Quail’s travels for long-term admirers and a perfect jumping-on point for the newly-curious. (A fully-orchestrated companion album, ‘Ianus’, is on the horizon.) (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Gwenifer Raymond: ‘Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark’

Swirling, incantatory, ritualistic – all these words have whirled round my brain when listening to Raymond’s latest release. Taking cues from the acoustic-psychedelic American Primitive guitar giants (think John Farley or Robbie Basho), and weaving in a healthy dose of UK folk-horror adrenaline – for this release, Raymond adds science/fiction influences to the broiling mix. Inspired by this outward conceptual reach, Raymond’s playing at times reaches an atomic, incandescent fury. Minimalist approach, maximalist impact. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Julieth Lozano Rolong & João Araújo: ‘Alma: Ibero-American Songs’

“Rolong’s operatic verve makes each song a production in miniature, while Araújo – a collaborative pianist through and through – brings a more reserved delicacy, giving Rolong maximum freedom of manoeuvre while keeping the overall rapport in perfect balance. At times the intensity is volcanic, but simmering, yet to erupt … a thrilling hour in the company of two artists who perform as if this music is flowing through their veins as well as their heritage.”

Sacred Paws: ‘Jump into Life’

The band that sound most like they’re falling up the stairs, Sacred Paws blend hyperactive highlife-inspired guitar lines and drum patterns with languid, reflective vocals – a very modern, multi-cultural kind of energy, and evocative of the furious underwater paddling needed in our lives to maintain some sort of surface serenity. After six years away, it’s great to welcome back this duo’s explosive, inclusive brand of joy. (Buy from Bandcamp.)

Carolyn Sampson & Joseph Middleton: ‘Schubert’s Four Seasons’

“Followers of this team will be well aware of their gift for programming, and on the three Schubert albums in particular they have found fascinating ways to navigate through what must be the most daunting catalogue in art song. This time, we spend a year in Schubert’s company but, ingeniously, we move between winters, which works superbly for the repertoire’s emotional arc.

In sync with its subject matter, there is a real sense of a continuum to the album’s sequence, the subtle variations in the flow of time passing. We get moments of Schubert’s bottled lightning (especially turbulent closer ‘Rastlose Liebe’), but elsewhere the duo stretch out into some longer song choices, giving the disc overall a magnetic, even luxurious rhythm.”

Signum Quartett: ‘A Dark Flaring’

“This generous album is devoted to string quartets by South African composers, all varying in scope and style. The superb booklet notes … draw out the idea that whatever each composer’s approach, they seem to deliberately take on the tangled turmoil of South Africa’s history. I think there are moments during this CD where the audible realisation of this is a kind of expansive restlessness. This will be due, I’m sure, as much to the full-blooded performances of the group, and ECM’s usual impeccable production standards, as to the works themselves.”

Dobrinka Tabakova: ‘Sun Triptych’

I find Tabakova’s music so accessible and rewarding, and wish there were more discs dedicated to her music. I think this is the fourth, following the debut ECM release ‘String Paths’ (2013), a choral-focused Regent disc in 2019, and the brilliant Hallé album in 2012. Back on ECM, this feels like a necessary gathering, then, in typically pristine sound, of string-based compositions that all date back to 2014 or earlier. I was particularly struck by two perhaps lower-key works at the centre of the album that both have an air of minimalist-mystery to them (‘Organum Light’, an orchestral piece influenced by Renaissance/Baroque polyphony, and the hypnotic ‘Spinning a Yarn’, featuring Roman Mints’s talents on both violin and hurdy-gurdy). But there’s excitement (‘Suite in Jazz’) and grandeur (the title suite), too.

Vox Clamantis: ‘Arvo Pärt – And I heard a voice’

A new Vox Clamantis album is always an event in my view, and I was hoping for something special from this Estonian ensemble in Arvo Pärt’s 90th birthday year. They more than delivered: I was lucky to hear them perform live in Christ Church Cathedral as part of Music in Oxford’s Pärt festival, and we also have this latest recording on ECM to cherish. The composer has long been associated with both choir and label, and the love and reverence with which they treat this material is audible.

Xuefei Yang: ‘Chapeau Satie’

The kind of album for which the word ‘exquisite’ might have been invented. Yang’s performances of Satie arrangements for guitar give the miniatures a crisp delicacy perfectly suited to their reserved beauty. For two of the ‘Gnoissiennes’, Yang accompanies herself, double-tracked, with remarkable consistency. Overall, this is an engagingly collaborative collection, with Sharon Bezaly’s flute lifting the ‘Gymnopedies’ – and Hermes Experiment fans will want to collect Héloïse Werner’s crystalline-cabaret performances on the art songs, along with her specially-commissioned composition, the beautiful ‘Melancolie’.

AA