{"id":227924,"date":"2025-12-28T15:53:23","date_gmt":"2025-12-28T14:53:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.angrymetalguy.com\/?p=227924"},"modified":"2025-12-29T18:01:18","modified_gmt":"2025-12-29T17:01:18","slug":"dolphin-whisperers-and-thus-spokes-top-tenish-of-2025","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.angrymetalguy.com\/dolphin-whisperers-and-thus-spokes-top-tenish-of-2025\/","title":{"rendered":"Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dolphin Whisperer<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n

\"\"Thus Spoke<\/strong><\/span> and I go way back. In fact, after our successful graduation from the same n00b class and into our first list season as full article writers, we had imagined that us two as a listing pair would produce a lethal and novel whiplash.1<\/a><\/sup> So welcome to the bottom (or top) half of this eclectic endeavor that’s sure to leave you with thirty-some-odd unique albums to revisit or ignore or whatever it is you do with our strong and word-riddled opinions.<\/p>\n

Now, the keen reader may notice I’ve had a bit of a productivity drop-off since about June. Well, that’s cause my wife gave birth to The Dolphlet, first of his name, and that’s kind of a lot of work, as I’m finding out. Baby comes first, as it goes. But I squeaked out a few important things, including a Coroner<\/strong><\/a> review that the unwashed masses claimed didn’t jerk Tommy Baron and co. as full of glee as it should have. I did miss other important things, like several of my list items.2<\/a><\/sup>. And I sincerely apologize to the following bands and offer them words of condolence or, something like that, based upon their individual situation: Bonginator<\/strong>, you should be glad I dropped the ball, stop it with the lame interludes; and count your blessings, Hell Ever After<\/strong>, thrash doesn’t need to be a musical; Species<\/strong>, you did thrash right<\/a> though and I’m happy that others enjoyed you even more; Moths<\/strong>, and more specifically bassist Weslie Negron, I’m sorry that I took on your interview when my son was one month old and my brain was fried\u2014your album rocks and you put in so much work to make Moths<\/strong> special. And lastly, to all the classics, I had grand plans to YMIO because I thought my brain could make that work\u2014haha.3<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n

Angry Metal Guy<\/strong>, however, remains home for me. You, dear readers, are a part of that love and drive that keep me here. Sometimes, I may only be able to conjure a half-funny joke in the comments section\u2014you laugh (let me believe that) and give it two to five likes. Others, I may hype the heck out of a promising underground act until one of my trusted colleagues tells me “Dolph<\/strong><\/span>, that’s enough already, I’ll review it, sheesh.<\/em>”\u2014you liked it<\/a> probably more than I did anyway. You see, for every word of bleeding hyperbole that we scribble, two sets of eyes may walk away enraptured. When you’re dealing with artists who have anywhere from sub-100 to 30004<\/a><\/sup> listeners on the popularity engine of Spotify, every set counts. Every purchase on Bandcamp or Ampwall<\/a> counts. Every stream on Tidal or some other competitor counts. Even your damn scrobble on last.fm counts if you’re nerdy enough for that. So sappy as it may seem, along with the herding efforts of Steel<\/strong><\/span> and occasionally The Big Dr. AMG Man Himself<\/strong><\/span>, you all give life to the bands in this wonderful modern metal scene. Hails!!<\/em><\/p>\n

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\"\"#ish. Messa <\/b>\/\/ The Spin<\/em><\/a> – I can’t rid myself of the power that a soaring bluesy lick and a smoky siren voice hold, no matter how I try. Burned into my head are The Spin<\/em>’s glassy chorused-out chorus escalations. Drenched into the cones of my crackling car speakers are the synth throbs of certified shakers “Fire on the Roof” and “Thicker Blood.” Turn up the volume and turn down the lights, Messa<\/strong> has come to steal attention with yet another platter of throwback creativity.<\/p>\n

\"\"#10. Quadvium <\/b>\/\/ Tetrad\u014dm<\/em><\/a> – Steve DiGiorgio and Jeroen Paul Thesseling stand at the altar of supreme metal bassists in my own personal head canon. They’d helm yours too if you were familiar with the span of their collective talents across acts like Death<\/strong><\/a>, Sadus<\/strong>, Autopsy<\/strong><\/a>, (DiGiorgio), and Pestilence<\/strong><\/a>, Obscura<\/strong>,<\/a> Sadist<\/strong><\/a> (Thesseling). Knowing all this, they decided to make an album together. And in their refinement as performers, they managed to make a supergroup two-bass project more than just a thumpy wankfest. Full of diverse and rich tones, modern and proggy jitteriness, and a rounded, jazz fusion-leaning taste for exploration, Tetrad\u014dm<\/em> provides an exciting notch in the weathered belt of these legends. I don’t know where Quadvium<\/b> goes next after this, but I hope that it’s anything but dormant.<\/p>\n

\"\"#9. Scardust <\/b>\/\/ Souls<\/em> – Every time I hear the introductory stumble of “Long Forgotten Song,” I fall immediately into the spastic and serenading world that Scardust<\/strong> crafts with their hypermelodic, histrionic, and confident progressive metal attitude. Central to this success remains the peerless Noa Gruman<\/strong>, whose every melody lands with honey-slathered tack and sing-a-long inspiration, despite my voice being a far, far cry away from the searing soprano wail that functions as a mic-drop crescendo as often as it needs to. Behind her, though, lies one of modern prog’s most nimble rhythm sections, imbuing even ballads like “Dazzling Darkness” and “Searing Echoes” with a bass-popping and hi-hat chattering clamor that places Souls<\/em> in a league of its own. Also, Ross Jennings of Haken<\/strong> sounds better here than he has with Haken<\/strong> since The Mountain<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"\"#8. Chiasma <\/b>\/\/ Reaches<\/em><\/a> – Chiasma<\/strong> possesses the unique ability to blend in with the modern paradigm of accessible melody prog in the lane of a band like Tesseract<\/strong> without conforming to its most djentrified tendencies. Rather, floating in its own swirl of Cynic<\/strong>-coded riffage and angelic, layered vocal excess, Reaches<\/em> explodes with atmosphere and propulsive riff alike. In Katie Thompson’s nimble serenades rests a voice imbued with both a fluttering prowess and an aching heart. And in this sorrow\u2014wrapped in the brightness of bleeping electronic backings, flipping virtuosic guitar runs, and singular voice\u2014a yearning and healing takes place in fervent and fluorescent splendor.<\/p>\n

\"\"#7. Dawnwalker <\/b>\/\/ The Between<\/em><\/a> – Just when I thought Dawnwalker<\/strong> didn’t have any more surprises left in their bag of tricks that seem tailor-made for my enjoyment,5<\/a><\/sup> these sneaky Brits went and pulled out the one-long-song album. Continuing to live in the space of esoteric philosophy set forth in The Unknowing<\/em><\/a> last year, Dawnwalker<\/strong> collects moods from all their previous works\u2014the melancholy of isolation from In Rooms<\/em>, the vocal aggression from Human Ruins<\/em>, a sonic palette even grander in scope than Ages<\/em><\/a>\u2014to explore thoughts surrounding death. In lush construction, plaintive discourse, and time-bending magic, The Between<\/em> breathes as a meditation bookended by heavy chiming bells\u2014a journey that feels longer than its svelte 30-ish minute runtime but with none of the fatigue its gargantuan ask threatens. 6<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n

\"\"#6. Gorycz <\/b>\/\/ Zasypia<\/em><\/a> – It’s a shame that Gorycz<\/strong> isn’t a household name, as their mystical, groovy approach to atmospheric and retching black metal sits among my favorites in the genre as a whole. Zasypia<\/em>, as part three of a trilogy, tells a tale of despair through a warping pedalboard light on traditional distortion, shrieking throat on the edge of coherence,7<\/a><\/sup> and dancing kit full of jazzy aplomb. In the space that lives between recursive and developing refrains, terror lurks. But in the Gorycz<\/strong> tattered exhale hangs a reverence for the beauty that can emerge from destruction and grieving. Feel every amplified string creak as you fall deeper into this devastating world.<\/p>\n

\"\"#5. Lychgate <\/b>\/\/ Precipice<\/em><\/a> – You may be aware that this album was released on the 19th of December, a full two days after we were supposed to turn in these lists. Knowing that, I made sure I beat Precipice<\/em> to the punch of garbage time list upheaval by listening to it, well, before that. In turn, Lychgate<\/strong> made sure that they’d make this late-season blooming count. With the death-thrash spirit of an early Morbid Angel<\/strong> crashing through low-end organ harmony and colliding with Holdsworthian alien guitar bleating, Precipice <\/em>holds back neither on its urge to wander in arcane atmosphere nor on its urge to churn bodies in kinetic wonder. As another writer (whose name I can’t remember) said, Precipice<\/em> ensnares by “…oscillating between Zappa<\/strong>\u2019s Jazz from Hell<\/em> and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics.” I couldn’t have put it better myself.8<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n

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#4. Barren Path <\/b>\/\/ Grieving<\/i><\/a> – The best grindcore album of the decade so far would<\/em> come from the manic attack of Gridlink<\/strong> sans Jon Chang. Absent his terrifying shriek, Matsubara’s guitar scatter weighs heavier, Fajarado’s lightning snare rolls clang sharper, all against song lengths that inhabit the true short-form tradition of extreme brevity. The truth is, I’ve spent longer than the album’s length trying to convey its intensity and prowess, so just go and listen to it already. I’ll wait here. No, seriously, do it<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"#3. Turian <\/b>\/\/ Blood Quantum Blues<\/em><\/a> – So very rare is the album that aligns like a key to a lock of a heart torn by generational angst. <\/em>An eloquence exists in the disparity between Turian<\/strong>’s stark societal observations punctuated by raw emotional interjections of “FUCK<\/em>”. I haven’t bothered to count the instances that this linguistic escalation occurs, but I guarantee that there are more fucks per stanza on Blood Quantum Blues<\/em> than your favorite album this year. And, after you’ve become addicted to its overdriven noise rock-meets-hardcore-meets-industrial madness, you’ll know every single one as you shout along its contemptuous tales of cultural erasure. Indians don’t vanish, and neither will my love for every riff, every breakdown, and every tirade of Blood Quantum Blues<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"#2. Changeling <\/b>\/\/ Changeling<\/em><\/a> – Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschl\u00e4ger poured everything into Changeling<\/em>. Arranging over thirty performers across Changeling<\/em>’s seems Sisyphean in scope, but Geldschl\u00e4ger persevered. Through peerless fretless wailings, every instrument under the sun follows well-developed motifs, and a pure love for metal, Changeling<\/strong> expresses nostalgia and novelty in its every loaded nook and cranny. And behind each moment of dense and exuberant songcraft, Geldschl\u00e4ger has tinkered to deliver an experience that feels carved over a lifetime. On top of all of that, Geldschl\u00e4ger is also a true guitar wizard\u2014he zigs and zags and twists and twirls where others wear a scale to death. Like a classic novel or movie, Changeling<\/em> reveals its worth both in immediate, jaw-dropping action and deep, attention-stealing detail. Geldschl\u00e4ger even put together a Dolby Atmos mix for the album and held listening parties in Berlin. I hear they’re wonderful. Come to California, Tom!<\/p>\n

#1. Maud the Moth <\/b>\/\/ The Distaff<\/em><\/a> – When we seek art, we seek bravery and freedom of expression. And in the music that we seek in a refuge like Angry Metal guy, we often find these qualities expressed in emotional theme, in raw, sonic aggression, or in sweeping guitar-led grandeur. Woven from a different base cloth, Maud the Moth<\/strong> on paper does not fit that mold. Amaya L\u00f3pez-Carromero wields, instead, a piano and scrawled diary pages. She, too, has pain, the same as any human who has encountered a world unforgiving to a life that wishes to live in a divergent path. And like the artists we value\u2014or rather, like the artists I value\u2014Amaya presents her vision of this struggle with focused and expanding melodic lines, crushing and crying crescendos, and an earnestness that compels its audience to surrender for a moment to a world created by these musical ideas. When your sadness comes, it won’t weep in blacks and ivories the way that The Distaff<\/em> does. But you can pop it on and pretend for its run that its triumph will transfer from your ears to the very center of your tingling chest.<\/p>\n

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Honorable Mentions:<\/strong><\/p>\n