Trying to capture what the year sounded like is no easy feat. There’s a need to balance past and future, to allow a hint of poptimism (because, whether you like it or not, pop music has its place here) while keeping the alternative spirit alive. But what hasn’t changed is how this scene continues to carve its own identity: vibrant, visceral and heavy with promise.
Here are the best albums of 2025:
10. Perantara by Jetcetera
Listening to Jetcetera’s Perantara from start to finish makes you want to relive a very specific set of moments: celebrating Galentine’s Day with your friends; waiting for a text back from your crush; regretting it immediately when three hours pass, he’s online, and you’re left on read; calling your friends again to overanalyse everything; crying together when the ending starts to feel inevitable. The album lives in those fleeting pockets of young love where joy arrives in tiny bursts, pain comes in heavy waves and months later you’re still wondering why you haven’t quite moved on. Produced by Megat Fazly — at this point, should we just crown him our own Jack Antonoff? — Jetcetera’s debut album is heavily lifted by its sugary choruses, soft guitars and Aida Rashid’s tender, vivid vocals. The strongest moments are the tracks that pin those feelings to the wall and refuse to look away: “Misplaced Affection” “Siang / Malam” and “World Class Lover.” It’s fully aware of both the blessing and the poison of being a hopeless romantic who feels too much. And honestly, we all need a little of that in ourselves.
Listen on Apple Music or buy physical releases
9. Kembara Budak Kampung dari Marikh by RuoH
Absurd. Witty. Never not themselves. Perak-based band RuoH’s Kembara Budak Kampung dari Marikh is packed with unserious, curious production choices: ad-libbed whispers, bursts of laughter between friends, overheard conversations stitched in to strengthen its world and moments that flirt with the strange and experimental. Sure, it’s produced by avant-garde master Kamal Sabran and recorded at the Ipoh Experimental Art School, but his presence never overwhelms the band’s own instincts. The album’s title suggests a sci-fi concept — an alien travelling from Mars to Earth, trying to blend in — but beneath that is something more human. There’s a looming pressure to grow up, yet naivety and playfulness remain intact throughout, especially on “Seandainya kita terbang…” and “Dendang Pedoman.” For their debut, RuoH takes a real gamble by leaning into experimentation and childlike curiosity. And it pays off.
8. Field of light by Oddweek
Tapping into the uncomfortable corners of grief and longing, Lumut-based indie rock band Oddweek somehow makes a compelling case for how ache can be nurtured into beautiful tracks that refuse to let go. The pain captured on their debut EP is framed in gold, set in sturdy borders, as if the memories must remain tangible and alive — the people within them immortalised, the feelings held still. Sifting through melancholic guitars and observant lyrics that freeze moments in place — “And today is raining for a long time / I’m feeling colder,” or “You’ve cried when you listened to Darkness” — Oddweek captures losses at its most unsettling yet precious moments, turning the people and places lost into something tender and immortal.
Listen on Bandcamp or buy physical releases
7. Seakan Laut Tenggelam by nonpareil
nonpareil’s only EP Seakan Laut Tenggelam, released in December 2024, just months before their inevitable breakup, opens like a curtain call already steeped in grief. Its introduction cuts in with piercing, spiralling flute lines and drums that steadily gather the momentum of departure. Later, each track unfolds like a monstrous chapter torn from a novel — hear it most clearly on “Neraka” and “Song 9.” The narrator bleeds, the atmosphere curdles and you’re forced to watch it all happen, feeling every ache along the way. Malaysian skramz keeps erupting in ways worth cherishing, even as this band delivers its torturous goodbye.
Listen on Bandcamp or buy physical releases
6. teletext by Lucidrari
Underground swagger abandoned, heartbreak mode on. On Lucidrari’s third album — and his first fully solo — he delivers 16 tracks that emulsify sugar-rush beats, the irritating chronicles of love colliding with success and sticky pop sensibilities his peers still can’t quite replicate. He brings in big names — from singer Aisha Retno to regional rappers ABANGSAPAU and Tenxi to actor Amir Ahnaf — to buoy massive tracks that could have dominated the mainstream, if the mainstream still remembered how to have fun. When it’s time to work, he delivers the precise edge of a hitmaker, and tracks like “lowkey” and “siapa nama kau?” shine with beaming confidence. When it’s time to play, he leans into the tackiness that suits him just fine — see how “chopped shyt freestyle” is bloated with internet Gen-Z slang underneath swirling, mellow horns that somehow never loses its cool. With teletext, Lucidrari bids goodbye to the old phase of rising rappers mumbling toward a coherent identity. Instead, he steps into the next chapter of his jagged, whirlwind path toward his ultimate ambition: becoming a pop star.
5. Gundah-Gulana by Francoe
Francoe’s origins as a duo trace back to their time at KLPAC, where they composed original live music to accompany devised theatre works. But their work deserves to live beyond the stage and theatre circles alone, ‘cause the rest of us should get to sit with it too. Gundah-Gulana feels like that gift. Across just three tracks and 23 minutes, the EP stretches itself with lush arpeggiated riffs, brittle heart-on-sleeve poetry, dimly lit atmosphere and songwriting that rewards patience. Their theatre background lingers in the way each track carefully builds tension and melancholy, especially in Coebar’s closed-eyed vocal delivery as if he’s standing under a single spotlight, lost inside the moment. The EP makes space for living nightmares to bleed as daydreams. Yet the experience is so rich, so quietly overwhelming, you almost wish it would remain suspended as a dream.
4. Commemorate by Commemorate
Rather than daunting themselves with the pressure to deliver a radical reinvention of a genre that everybody with an electric guitar and a reverb padel want to try their hands on, Commemorate instead laser-focuses on a collection of songs that are airy, wispy and breathed through with tremendous life. Among its strongest crafts comes from Sasha Ningkan’s vocals, which thread its whispers along with melancholy and lush, resulting in a spellbinding performance. But the rest of the band, shaped by hardcore and post-rock backgrounds, still know exactly when to unleash the beast, striking a balance between gloomy moods, claustrophobic ambience and fleeting surf-rock tingles. It’s a stern proof that Malaysian shoegaze isn’t done making its case yet.
Listen on Bandcamp or buy physical releases
3. Dirty Blues & .32s by Glazed Baguette
Accountant by day, rapper and producer by night, Glazed Baguette turns the blues and braggadocio of his passion project all the way up on his solo album Dirty Blues & .32s. Tracing back to his roots as a blues musician — a genre he’s been playing since he was 15 — the record lets blues and hip hop coexist without friction. You can hear it everywhere: guitar riffs that twang and bend, slow-burning beats, grit that never runs out of steam. The horsepower on the mic is undeniable, especially on the seven-minute, chorus-less “Mesin Jahit” featuring SLATAN’s Gard as well as the rest of Blanco’s own Yang Ariff, Dafrosty, PH1 and MVL — each taking turns flexing mosaics of survival and power through violence-tinged bravado. Still, it’s the slick, rich production that really takes the cake: The title track rips open with guitar shreds that stand as a powerhouse on their own; “You’ll Address Me as (….)” softens the menace with horns that practically coo while competitors bow; “Kruise Kontrol” is short and lethal; “PRESSURE, Pt. 2” with Yang Ariff pushes egotistical rap into the clouds, soaked in atmospheric muzak that feels like a night ride you never want to end. It’s kind of insane to think this is only the beginning of Glazed Baguette.
Listen on Bandcamp or buy physical releases
2. Swatantra by kias
After nearly two decades in the skramz big leagues, and a much-praised compilation released back when they were still known as Kias Fansuri, the band returned with a new name and, finally, a debut album. And Swatantra makes that patience feel entirely worth it. Instead of reinventing the Kias sound, Swatantra reasserts their career-long case for deep listening. Every track detonates with pain, agony and rage clawing its way out, most strikingly on highlights like “Merungkai Yang Terbengkalai” and “Rayakan Kehilangan”. It’s teeth-grindingly personal and aggressively honest; it leaves you wanting to save the narrator staring back at you in the mirror.
Listen on Bandcamp or buy physical releases
1. langlang EP by Joni Mustaf
Out of all the musicians to come out of the golden age of Malaysian independent music, few have taken a path as quietly compelling as Mohd Jayzuan. Some of his peers were eventually absorbed into the mainstream, many of his idols were shunned into the background or exited music altogether in pursuit of more “stable” lives. But Jayzuan remains. With his alter ego Joni Mustaf’s latest EP, langlang, he delivered what feels like a culmination of his past projects and the ethos he’s carried for most of his life as an alternative, independent musician. There’s the right balance of berserk energy and contained noise (“sondak”), romanticism towards God and lovers (“lingsir”), notebook-style poetry (“ilam-ilam”) and a cheery, communal warmth brought in by collaborations with fellow musicians of different generations he seemingly hitchhiked across Perak (“pukah”). When a musician who’s championed the independent spirit for decades finally reaches a point of deep satisfaction, the rest of us can only watch in admiration. langlang feels like a victory lap not just for Jayzuan, but for the scene that grew alongside him. He’s a living proof that when you stay, you don’t age out of this. You just get better.
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