The Former Clarity 2025 Year-End Extravaganza

A collection of things I enjoyed in the calendar year 2025.

David Anthony

15 Dec 2025 • 20 min read

Wiccans, Phase IV album art

Starting on a sincere note before we move on to my usual buffoonery, I want to thank each and every person who reached out before my surgery, while I was in the hospital, or while I was (and still am) recovering. Your kind words and material support have meant the world to me. As much as I tried to keep up a brave face and approach this with confidence, that whole act-like-you've-been-there-before routine, I'd be lying if I said it was easy. Hilariously, it was also the exact opposite of my surgery six years ago in almost every way.

In 2019, they had to manipulate so many nerves in my neck that I ended up spending the recovery time completely numb. In some ways, this rocked, because I was given the gift of ignorance to the pain of it all. Of course, there was the awful bit of the nerves healing, which sent sharp electric shocks through my jaw and neck at random intervals, but there was no post-surgical pain in a traditional sense. Though it did take several years to regain feeling in my jaw, neck, and left ear, so I guess that was a pretty big downside.

This time, though, I felt it all. Every sore, swollen, wrenching second of it. Even as I write this, I'm still a bit swollen, nearly two months out. I wake up every day feeling like I have a golf ball lodged in my throat, and then, by the end of the day, it's like having a little weight pulling at my jawline. It's not great, but it could be far worse. When I'm asked which experience was worse, I'm not sure how to answer, other than to say, "I wouldn't recommend either one to you."

Tragically, I've also spent a good bit of my post-surgery time going back and forth with my health insurance company and my doctor's office. The fine folks at BlueCross BlueShield have decided to challenge the medical necessity of my inpatient stay, so I now spend a chunk of every day stressing over whether I'll get slapped with a $30,000 charge if my appeals are denies. I love this country and its elected representatives and the wealthy business people who ultimately pull the strings so very much. I am being genuine and am putting that in writing for no reason in particular. When they knock on your door to ask you some questions, just point them to this newsletter and, if you could, say we were at dinner together on the night in question. Please and thank you.

I must also admit, despite what you would assume, I didn't listen to much music in my all-too-brief time off work. Instead, I read books, watching TV shows, and went on long walks—getting in north of 15,000 steps a day. With so much open time, I wanted to fill it with the things I often neglect in my normal life. As a result, I barely looked at the internet, which proved essential to my healing in a completely different way. I still haven't fully logged back on; I'm largely unaware of whatever chatter is happening in online spaces I once kept tabs on. Now, when someone tells me about whatever folks are chattering about, I feel the part of my brain takeover that's usually reserved for my mom telling me about relatives I don't remember—or don't care to remember. I don't want to be mean, but I'm also retaining none of this information, so I just nod until the conversation meets its natural end.

Anyhow, it's the end of the year. In many ways, it was a very bad year. But here I am, and so are you. That surely must count for something. Really, my favorites things of this year were my friends, family, and in-person community that carried me through this. I should have just made a list of all the people who jumped in to help when I needed it the most but, to avoid making this a bad awards show speech, let me just say that I love you very much and will return the favor whenever you need it.

My Favorite Albums of the Year

Ancient Death, Ego Dissolution

When I wrote about Ego Dissolution previously, I said it would probably be my death metal album of the year and now, would you look at that, it is! In a year where I found myself extremely burned out on the bands doing the murky, cavernous sound, this was a breath of fresh air. Of course, it has other trendy comparison points, but the the riffs are great and the songs are memorable. In my book, you don't need much more than that.

Bell Witch and Aerial Ruin, Stygian Bough Volume II

Is a sequel ever better than the original thing? No, I do not want to talk about Star Wars with you; I do not care about it, and you can't make me! Anyhow, after the release of the eighty-three-minute Mirror Reaper in 2017, Bell Witch's subsequent albums didn't elicit much of a response from me. In fact, their decision to start two separate album trilogies—one on their own, and one as a collaborative effort with Aerial Ruin—had me thinking they had learned all the wrong lessons from their breakout success. Guys, just because your most popular album is a big, sweeping epic doesn't mean all of your releases need to be! Longing was also a great album, and there was a song under four minutes on that one!

Stygian Bough Volume I and Future's Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate played like protracted intros and little more. Kind of like that first part of Dune (I didn't watch it. I don't care. And, again, you can't make me!) but in funeral doom form. Yet, I wasn't checked out of Bell Witch entirely; I knew I'd still give every new release a shot, even if it was a futile gesture. That's why Stygian Bough Volume II is such a triumph, because it doesn't just stand alone as perhaps the best release from either Bell Witch or Aerial Ruin; it makes me excited to see where they are heading next.

Erik Moggridge of Aerial Ruin's contributions feel much more at home here, less an featured player and more of an active piece of this material. Meanwhile, the playing of Dylan Desmond and Jesse Shreibman feels economical by Bell Witch standards. Make no mistake, these songs are still long, with the shortest being a tick over 11 minutes, but they all go somewhere. Each piece builds to a climax that feels like a complete thought and has actual replay value. There hasn't been a Bell Witch album I've wanted to put on with this much regularity since their debut, and it's a thrill to have that impulse again.

Citric Dummies, Split With Turnstile

As recently as six months ago, if you asked me what I thought of Minneapolis' Citric Dummies I'd hit you with, "Yeah, they're pretty cool." As we all know, that's the polite way of saying, "I don't listen to them, but I have nothing bad to say about them either." Frankly, I never thought that would change. Then they released Split With Turnstile, a cheekily named record that either draws you in or completely pushes you away. After a quick bit of Napalm Death appropriation with "Multinational Copyright Violations," the trio of Dummies rip through 11 tracks that are faster, tighter, and far more clever than anything they've done before. I can now genuinely say that I think Citric Dummies are pretty cool—no addendums needed.

Contrast Attitude, Discharge Your Noise

I wrote a bit about Contrast Attitude's long-awaited second record earlier this year, and it's remained one of my most listened-to albums ever since. It's absolutely top-tier D-beat, the kind that is plentiful these days, but Contrast Attitude remains a cut above. Unlike so many bands that are content to charge through a couple of power chords and call it a day, the riffs on this record are incredibly catchy, and the songs do more than just sit in Discharge worship mode. There are some definite street punk elements here, but without the requisite corniness that comes along with them. I wish I could have seen them when they toured the States, but we can't win 'em all.

Dark Thoughts, Highway To The End

How much Ramonescore does a person really need? That's a question I ask myself whenever Philadelphia's Dark Thoughts release a new record. That's not meant as a diss against the band, but I've sold a lot of records that belong in this pop-punk micro-genre over the years, but Dark Thoughts LPs have always survived those purges. While 2019's Must Be Nice felt like the band had lost some steam, Highway To The End is a huge course correction. With hooks that worm their way into my brain a little more effortlessly ("Slept Til Two" and "Bubble's Gonna Burst" are perfect punk songs), and the late-album quasi-ballad "Please Don't Be Lonesome" landing so cleanly, it's hard to not wish for Dark Thoughts to keep the schtick on going for as long as they possibly can.

Good Luck, Big Dreams, Mister

I've written about Good Luck twice this year, once as the intro to that big interview with the band *coughs once* and then again in a little album round-up *coughs a second time* but there's something I was struggling to articulate both times and ended up cutting from both of those pieces. Let's see if the third time is the charm.

In my personal experience, when people talk about records that make them cry it's usually albums that wrestle with some deep, painful emotion like death; think A Crow Looked At Me, or Carrie & Lowell, or a third indie-rock record I also don't like that fits this theme. For me, though, Good Luck has songs that make me cry for wholly different reasons.

Let's start with "1001 Open Hands" from Into Lake Griffy. It's a perfect song in many senses, and if I could listen to it more than once without blubbering, I'd probably play it on a loop forever. The same is true for "Novel Figure" from Good Luck's sophomore effort, Without Hesitation. On their face, both of these songs are not expressly sad. No one dies; painful memories aren't labored over; they come across as good-natured, pop-minded punk songs. So what makes them elicit such big feelings?

When I heard Into Lake Griffy in 2008, I felt optimistic about the future. Many people have written at length about the false hope packaged and sold during the Obama years, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't susceptible to it. I was 18, and I felt like the world was opening up for me in a very real way. I felt that we were on our way to building a world that was more noble, considerate, and loving. Clearly, I was wrong.

When I hear "1001 Open Hands," I come face-to-face with the death of my optimism. I'm not nihilistic, I just see how much work goes into making the world feel welcoming and less like some elaborate Saw trap. When Ginger Alford sings, "What idea could you be given the space to really breathe?" I wonder what my life would be like if paying bills and staying alive didn't feel so suffocating. "Novel Figure" builds on this when Ginger sings, "The minor characters they never make a sound / There's nothing wrong with playing background for this town." I thought I could be something once; Now I'm just a background character.

All of that is to say, Good Luck's third album had a lot to live up to for me. I've already told you how great it is, but with the closing track, "Make a Road," a third song has entered the pantheon of Good Luck songs that make me feel a lump in my throat. It's another song that's just about making your way through the world and finding your purpose, even if the world feels cruel and inhospitable most of the time. Once again, Ginger cuts to the heart of the matter when she says, "I know it's just another choice I don't want to explain again." Yep, that's it. That's exactly it. As I pursue music and writing with zero financial incentive, I can't explain why I'm doing any of this. I just have to do it. To feel understood and comforted in this way, that's a special thing. So to repeat myself yet again: I am so glad this band is back.

Hooded Menace, Lachrymose Monuments of Obscuration

As I teased in my Ancient Death writeup, it was a weird year for death metal. A lot of bands I like put out good records, but few put out truly great ones. That's why it's all the more surprising that Hooded Menace, a band I only sort-of cared about, landed one of my favorite records of the year with Lachrymose Monuments of Obscuration. Which is unique in that I've only ever half-cared about Hooded Menace.

The band's last record, The Tritonus Bell, produced by King Diamond guitarist Andy LaRocque, brought a lot of classic '80s metal but Lachrymose goes even further. It's rare to hear a death-doom band pull off a Duran Duran cover and not take the piss out of it, but Hooded Menace comes at the material reverently and it's all the better for it. Lachrymose has a pastel-coated '80s feel that could so easily be cheesy, if not outright revolting, but Hooded Menace may have actually made their most accessible and memorable record all at once.

Iron Lung, Adapting // Crawling

According to Tidal, I was Iron Lung's 51st biggest fan this year. If Sexless // No Sex was available to stream there, I bet I could have easily cracked the top 30. Anyway, I interviewed the band for see-saw and I'm still very proud of that interview. Even if that hadn't happened, I'd still have gone deep on Adapting // Crawling, because I remain completely taken with Iron Lung's distinct take on powerviolence. They remain as powerfully concise as ever, and I hope I get to see them live again one day soon.

Pile, Sunshine and Balance Beams

I once said that Pile was our greatest modern rock band, and I stand by that now more than ever. Sunshine and Balance Beams is the best-sounding Pile record, a thing they've struggled to achieve throughout their career. But this record doesn't succeed just because it sounds so good, the songwriting is still just as inspired. Though it took me a second to warm up to this one, I hope that many of these songs become setlist staples for years to come.

Slow Mass, Low on Foot

It took me a long time to write this one because it was hard to find the right words. To keep it brief: I'm really proud of my friends who made this record. It wasn't an easy path to see its release, but it's a gorgeously expansive indie-rock record, the kind that is both indie and rock in the truest senses of those words. With gorgeous packaging from Landland, and a short book put together by yours truly (I think only available with pre-orders), I'd urge you to hear this, even if you feel predisposed not to.

Wiccans, Phase IV

Continuing this year's trend of bands I found previously unremarkable ending up on this list, we have Wiccans. The Austin, Texas band never jumped out to me during their more active period, and despite seeing that they were headlining Unlawful Assembly fest a few months ago, I thought they'd long since hung it up. When Phase IV was released I didn't rush to listen to it until I got a message from a buddy (what's up, Laurent!) and he compared it to Poison Idea and said that Wiccans had "surpassed themselves." That's simple descriptor caught my attention, and it proved completely accurate. Phase IV is burly hardcore punk with big hooks and top-tier guitar melodies. It's quickly become a go-to record for me these past couple of months, and it's further proof that remaining open, even to things that you thought you had completely figured out, is always a worthwhile endeavor. Sometimes you just might be pleasantly surprised.

Some other highlights where I just didn't have a ton of new things to say, so they go here, I guess

Algernon Cadwallader, Trying Not to Have a Thought
Alienator, Meat Locker
Animal Man Machine, Burning The Nest Of Humanity
Axon, Axon
The assorted Blood and Crescent releases
Caustic Wound, Grinding Mechanism of Torment
Deadguy, Near-Death Travel Services
Kissland, Girls Mignon
Laughing Corpse, Beyond Recognition
Manat, Manat
The Massacred, Nightmare Agitators
Mephitic Corpse, Sickness Attracts Sickness
Morbific, Bloom Of The Abnormal Flesh
Nimbifer, Vom Gipfel
Pelican, Flickering Resonance
Pharaoh Overlord, Louhi
Pyrex, Body
Gwenifer Raymond, Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark
Retirement, Attention Economy
Rigorous Insitution, Tormentor
Sijjin, Helljjin Combat
Stress Positions, Human Zoo
Subversive Rite, Apocalypse Zone
Teitanblood, From the Visceral Abyss
Terror Corpse, Ash Eclipses Flesh
Water Margin, Gleaming Cursed
Yellowcake, Apparitions Of War

Top Vinyl Score (and a tape)

Stains, Stains

As you may have guessed, I didn't spend much money on records this year, let alone on high-ticket items. I actually spent a good chunk of the year selling records to prep for whatever healthcare costs were coming my way—at least the ones I could have anticipated. Though I was able to lean on that nest egg to cover my deductible, out-of-pocket maximum, and all the trips back-and-forth to Cleveland, I did manage to snag one major want this year: a first pressing of the lone Stains LP.

Formed in 1976, the Stains are often credited as the first punk band from East Los Angeles. Though they came up alongside many of L.A.'s first-wave punk bands, the sound on Stains feels much more like early American hardcore. Record in 1981, just before the band broke up, Stains wouldn't be released until 1983 by SST Records. Members of the Stains have gone on to claim that the record was held up because of Greg Ginn feeling it'd compete too directly with Black Flag—many fans accuse Ginn of aping Robert Becerra's guitar style and outright stealing STains riffs—which is not something verifiable, but that two-year gap is certainly curious.

I'd been chasing this one for years, and I'd never found a copy that wasn't beat to shit or carrying a price tag over $500, if not both. Though this one has some radio station writing on the cover, the record is immaculate, and it remains an absolutely powerful document of American punk's gestational period.

John K. Samson, Slips and Tangles

If you could hear where one of our greatest living songwriters got their start, would you want to listen to it, or would doing so break the spell for you? That's the question I'd asked myself about JS Fellows (formerly John K. Samson), whom I hold in the highest possible regard. Despite being readily available on YouTube for years, I was always nervous to listen to Slips and Tangles, his debut solo release. I heard it wasn't very good, but instead of confronting that fact head-on, I came up with a stupid ultimatum: I'd only listen to it if I found an original cassette copy, to experience it in the way it was originally released. I didn't think that would ever end up happening, so I just assumed I'd never actually have to figure this out for myself. But then, randomly, I had the chance to buy a copy. So I took the plunge.

Holding Slips and Tangles in my hands, unfurling the J card, and listening to John's earliest documented attempts at songwriting—a couple of which would end up on Propagandhi and Weakerthans albums, respectively—was a strangely inspiring experience. Not because Slips and Tangles is particularly good, but because it served as a necessary reminder that even the people we look up to, the ones who often feel unassailable, don't always arrive with a fully formed authorial voice. In many ways, Slips and Tangles is a reminder that making art is about doing the work, and it's a gift to see that work play out, even in its messiest stages.

Favorite Live Shows

Pile in the round at Thalia Hall, Chicago

The best show I saw all year. A bill featuring Pile, NNAMDÏ, and Krill 2 is unbeatable in its own right. Throw them in the round at Thalia Hall and you've really got something special. From Krill 2 covering Fat History Month, to NNAMDÏ putting on one of the best solo sets I've ever seen from him, to Pile playing with a level of unpredictable vigor I've not seen in years, this is one of those shows I'll never stop thinking about. I posted a few videos from this show to my Instagram stories and get so many responses from people asking variations on, "This is so sick! Who is this?" so I think that only backs up my laudatory claims.

Life at Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis

Much like I spent the year not buying many records, I didn't make many extraneous trips either—aside from this one. When Japanese crust legends Life announced they'd be coming to America and playing four shows, in New York, Philadelphia, Richmond, and Minneapolis, I knew I'd have to be at one of them. After 35 years in existence, this was Life's very first time coming to the United States, so it'd be foolish to think I'd have another chance to see them without flying to Japan. This very likely was my only shot, and I'm so glad I took it.

While I was impressed by most of the support acts—notably Destruct, Hope?, and Blazing Eye—I was there for Life, and they didn't disappoint. The crowd responded in kind, with beer cans flying through the air, moshers piling on for sing-alongs, and old-school stagedives aplenty; the entire night is exactly what I'd hoped for. Plus, getting to see how their bass player, who hangs the body of his bass so low that he ends up strumming around the twelfth fret, actually plays discernible notes was a real treat. I came home strapped with Life merch for myself and a couple of friends, and that brief solo venture was a reminder that, even in the hardest times, it's still important to tap into joy every now and again.

Blood Incantation and William Basinski at Bohemian National Cemetery, Chicago

We went to this with Nina's parents, and it was an absolute delight. Watching her mom become enraptured with death metal drumming and her dad vibe out to the prog sections, was such a beautiful thing. I did have an extreme tension headache during this, but even that didn't ruin the fun.

Good Luck at Cole's Bar, Chicago, and Grindhouse Cafe, Highland, Indiana

I promise not to go long about Good Luck for a fourth time, but I do want to share that the two shows I got to see on their short tour were truly something special. As joyous as the first night in Chicago was, the second one in Highland, Indiana may have trounced it. Taking place at Grindhouse Cafe, a chain started by one of my very best friends, and in a room full of other friends who traveled several hours just to be there, it was utterly enriching.

I also want to give a special shout-out to my friend Jaime, who handed out Magic: The Gathering cards to people and instructed everyone to use them "as confetti" during Good Luck's set. At first, no one knew exactly what that meant. Then, just as Good Luck was set to play, he shared his plan: When Good Luck hit the line in "Pajammin" that goes, "Oh, the feeling / It's spreading up to the ceiling," everyone would launch their Magic cards in the air. Of course, that's the song Good Luck opened with. When that line came, cards were flung straight up, directly into the cafe's ceiling fan, which deposited them all around the room. By sheer happenstance, a card titled "Nimble Innovator" fell against Matt Tobey's pick guard, nestling between the two pick-ups of his guitar. It rested there for several songs before he removed it for safekeeping. If that's not a perfect example of what those shows were like, then I don't know what is.

Melvins and Napalm Death at Metro, Chicago

Hey, I wrote about this already! You can read about it there, but I think it sums up a lot of my experiences this year of going in with lowered expectations, then being absolutely floored. It's amazing what being open to things can do to a person.

Favorite Movie

Nirvanna The Band The Show The Movie

Technically, this movie doesn't have a wide release until February of 2026, but I saw it in 2025, so I'm counting it. In my household, we quote Nirvana The Band The Show in the way that most people quote I Think You Should Leave. This movie is something we'd been looking forward to since it premiered back in March, and it delivered in so many ways.

Looking at it objectively, I could see a few spots where it could have tightened up and played a little better. But subjectively, it's the hardest I've laughed at any comedy in a decade—maybe even more? This thing was engineered to be unpredictable and make you question what's real, what's not, and how any of this even happened. To land that many jokes in the midst of that is remarkable. I can recognize it may not be a perfect movie, but functionally, it is a perfect movie. It hits theaters properly on February 13, 2026, and I'll be there ready to do it all again then.

A few other notes and observations

Dan Ozzi and I brought back and rebranded our podcast. It's called No Disrespect. I don't even know what it is now, but it's been fun to do, and we'll do it until it's not fun anymore.
Major publications don't care about hardcore anymore, right? I feel like coverage has dried up, and the mentions of anything other than Turnstile on major lists basically confirms that the last drips from this faucet have already fallen. I think this is a good thing.
I read more books this year than I have in the past few years. That felt good. I would recommend reading not on a screen as much as you can.
Ritual Cross will have a new tape out in a few months. I'm exceptionally proud of this material, and I hope you give it a shot. We have more unrecorded songs that hopefully we'll do something with those soon. More shows are coming soon.

A final thank you

Ever since launching Former Clarity, I've found myself averse to self-promotion. When I write my record reviews here, I just make a post or two on social media about it and then call it a day. I don't tag the bands or the labels or whoever else might be relevant; I imagine most people I write about never even know I've done it. That's a foolish decision for many reasons, but it's one I've made intentionally. The entire goal of Former Clarity is to write honestly about music I enjoy and hopefully put people onto something they wouldn't have discovered otherwise. It grows solely by word of mouth—someone sending a link to a friend and them signing up—so if you know someone who is vaguely interested in what I do here, let them know this thing exists.

Beyond that, I'm committed to keeping this free for as long as humanly possible. There's no content held behind paywalls. There are no exclusive perks. It's all here, and it will be that way as long as I can afford to do it like this. If you're here, I really do appreciate you. See you next year.