THE ALBUMS THAT ACCOMPANIED ME IN 2025

Those who know me well know that I’ve always been drawn to music that hides in the margins—unique, self-contained worlds of sound. Every month I scour the internet for new releases, and when I stumble upon an undiscovered gem, especially in my favorite genres like modern classical and electronic, I feel as though I’ve found treasure.

Two things make an album truly valuable to me: first, the images it conjures in my mind; second, how distinct its artistic voice feels. By originality, I don’t mean forced experimentation, but rather the ability to create sounds and ideas that deviate from the ordinary. In today’s electroacoustic age—where any sound can be manipulated endlessly—I deeply admire musicians who dare to chase new tones and textures, as long as they produce something of quality.

For years I’ve been keeping a personal archive of these albums, though it’s been somewhat scattered. I’m now putting this list together to organize that chaos into something more structured. I won’t rank the albums; instead, I’ll highlight certain pieces and explain why they resonate with me.

Nau Leone - All We Have Is Now

Nau Leone’s CAMBIO is one of my favorite electronic albums because it blends two of my beloved genres—electronic and modern classical—so seamlessly. All We Have Is Now, however, moves me in a completely different way. After being diagnosed with a brain tumor a few years ago, Leone turned that experience into the core theme of this album. As its title suggests, “All We Have Is Now” embraces a philosophy of presence and impermanence. Across twelve tracks, you can feel a tension between despair and resilience—songs like Low Lights and Life Is Beautiful carry the same hope and drive as his earlier works. Listening from start to finish feels like moving through darkness, collapse, and finally quiet strength. It’s more than an electronic album; it’s a meditative landscape of sound.

Jess Gillam - PRISM Vol.1 ve Vol.2 

Among the saxophonists I’ve discovered in recent years, Jess Gillam stands apart. Her rendition of Ólafur Arnalds’ Samanwas one of my most replayed tracks of last year. While I’d heard the original many times, her interpretation captured me in a way that made me listen to it hundreds of times. Her PRISM albums demonstrate how she dissolves the boundaries between genres—reimagining works from modern composers like Arnalds and Lera Auerbach to romantic icons like Liszt. Even those who aren’t usually drawn to saxophone music might find these performances captivating. Each piece feels like a small emotional journey.

Daniel Herskedal - Movements of Air

Daniel Herskedal was my most-listened-to musician in 2024. The fact that a tuba player could hold that spot for an entire year still amazes me. His mastery lies in transforming the tuba—an instrument typically known for its weight—into something lyrical, gentle, and full of grace. That alone is an extraordinary achievement. As a Norwegian artist, his music carries that distinct Scandinavian melancholy and introspection, though not without light. Movements of Air may not be his best album, but it’s a remarkable one—built on themes of hope, peace, and the search for a better world.

Thrupence - Empty Maps

Jack Vanzet, also known as Thrupence, caught my attention with Thoughts. He’s not just a talented musician but also a painter, and I feel that his music reflects a visual sensibility. His tracks weave piano melodies, field recordings, vinyl crackles, and organic beats into rich sonic textures. While some pieces may remind listeners of Bonobo, his melancholic tone and stylistic range make his work uniquely affecting. Empty Maps is deeply emotional—an elegant fusion of organic and electronic sounds, full of subtle sorrow and atmosphere.

Nils Frahm - Night

Nils Frahm is an artist who has proven himself time and again through his minimalist albums, as well as film scores like Victoria. Night consists entirely of solo piano works—some of his most stripped-down compositions to date. Yet the emotional depth he extracts from a single piano is astounding. Recorded at Berlin’s historic Funkhaus on the iconic Klavins M450 (one of the world’s largest upright pianos), the album’s rich, resonant tone feels alive. Pieces like Monuments and Canton showcase the haunting melancholy and sonic warmth that make Frahm’s work so distinctive.

Polaroit - How to Disappear

Polaroit is a duo I discovered after their collaboration with MEUTE on Verden, and I’ve been following their releases ever since. In 2025, they released two EPs—Found You and How to Disappear. While the former aligns more with Ben Böhmer or Nils Hoffmann’s uplifting deep house style, How to Disappear leans into melancholy—and that’s where it truly shines. At moments, such as in To Drift – To Stay, you might even feel echoes of Max Richter. The duo combines the emotional richness of strings with electronic depth, offering both introspection and rhythm. Inspired by the tides of the North Sea, their sound captures that region’s tranquil yet wistful spirit—reminiscent at times of Kiasmos. If you enjoy any of the artists mentioned above, this is one of the essential EPs of the year.

ABBOTT - Elv

ABBOTT contributed to the How to Disappear project mentioned above. His Elv EP belongs firmly within my minimalist modern-classical favorites. The album’s themes revolve around self-reflection and fatherhood. Its soft textures and cinematic dynamics create an emotional range that feels intimate yet expansive. What makes Elv especially unique is its integration of music and place—the entire project was performed and filmed aboard a historic ship on the Elbe River. The videos merge the music’s melancholic essence with the river’s atmosphere, turning Elv into a holistic audiovisual experience.

Niklas Paschburg - Mexican Alps

One of this year’s biggest surprises for me was Mexican Alps. I first discovered Niklas Paschburg nearly a decade ago and was immediately struck by his command of the piano and ability to perform multiple layers simultaneously. But here, something changed—he almost abandons the piano entirely. During a trip to Oaxaca, he found himself without access to one, and that limitation became a creative breakthrough. The result is an album rich in electronic textures, natural samples, and unconventional instrumentation. It’s also infused with Mexican cultural influences, particularly the vibrancy of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). The combination of nature’s grandeur and this cultural vitality makes Mexican Alps less an album than a journey. Mixed by Gijs van Klooster in a Dolby Atmos–optimized studio, the listening experience feels fully immersive.

Lido Pimienta - La Belleza

Lido Pimienta brings Afro-Colombian folk influences into an extraordinary album. As I mentioned earlier, I seek originality—so records like this, rooted in unfamiliar cultural sounds, are essential to me. While Pimienta often works in pop or Afro-pop idioms, here she incorporates orchestral, choral, and symphonic wind arrangements (the Medellín Philharmonic Orchestra truly shines). She fuses classical elements with the dembow rhythm, creating something deeply layered and unpredictable. Despite its brief 28-minute runtime, La Belleza feels dense and full of surprises. Tracks like Tengo Que Ir and Busca La Luz flow perfectly together—and yes, I still find myself shouting “¡Busca la luz!” from time to time.

Grandbrothers - Elsewhere

Released late this year, Elsewhere holds a special place in Grandbrothers’ discography. Every time they release an album, it inevitably lands among my most-listened-to records of the year—and this one will be no exception. The duo treats the piano not just as an instrument but as a sound source to be expanded and reshaped through analog synths, drum samples, and intricate textures. The result feels both familiar and completely new.
Their live shows have always fascinated me, as they rebuild their tracks on stage with improvisation and spontaneity. Their performances are as alive and organic as their studio work is precise. One half of the duo, Erol Sarp, is Turkish—something that makes me proud—but I’ve yet to see them live in Turkey. Hopefully, that changes soon.

Kelly Moran - Dont Trust Mirrors

Kelly Moran, like Grandbrothers, is one of the artists using the “prepared piano” technique. For those unfamiliar: it involves placing small objects—like screws or rubber pieces—between the piano strings to create metallic, percussive sounds. John Cage pioneered this method. While Grandbrothers apply it via computer-controlled hammers, Moran uses it in the traditional, tactile way. Don’t Trust Mirrors stands as one of the most beautiful recent examples of this technique.

Superpoze - Siecle

Superpoze blends acoustic instruments with electronic foundations, often evoking a melancholic atmosphere. While his earlier works leaned heavily on electronics, Siècle brings acoustic elements forward. The album feels like a dialogue between chaos and serenity. Gentle piano lines are interrupted by sharp electronic bursts, and soft acoustic passages give way to frictional textures. This balance creates an unpredictable yet cohesive experience. The rhythmic backbone relies on the legendary Roland TR-909—used by Daft Punk, Aphex Twin, and The Chemical Brothers—providing both drive and contrast for the layered piano and strings.

Gabriel Olafs - Polar

Polar is fascinating because it creates an imaginary world—a frozen planet where whales sing and humans are absent. Naturally, this imagined landscape carries echoes of the artist’s Icelandic roots, with sounds of waves, wind, and cracking ice woven throughout. The album feels like the soundtrack to a film or a dream, transporting listeners to a different realm. The companion release Polar: Traveler’s Log even includes narrated diary entries from this fictional world, and a Japanese-language edition was recently released.

Nils Hoffmann - Everlight

Within the Anjunadeep roster, Nils Hoffmann has always stood out to me. Normally, I keep some distance from deep or progressive house—artists like Lane 8, Ben Böhmer, or Yotto evoke the shared euphoria of the dance floor. Hoffmann, however, along with Eli & Fur and CRi, crafts a more personal, inward experience. His tracks feature refined melodies and rich layering that make them perfect companions for focused moments—coding, working, or walking. In fact, I’m listening to Fever In My Bones as I write this. It’s also one of the most energetic albums on this entire list.

For now, that’s where I’ll pause—but of course, there are many more in mind. If I extended the list to include all the brilliant albums from 2024, we’d never reach the end. So I’m treating 2025 as a starting point, hoping to make this an annual tradition.

This isn’t meant to be a definitive “Best Albums of 2025” list. It’s clearly rooted in the genres I love most—so pop, rock, or metal fans may find little overlap here. My goal was simply to highlight the works that, within my own musical universe, pushed their boundaries, stayed with me throughout the year, and stood out through their craftsmanship and emotional depth.