Ding, ding! Keep politics out of music? Keep music out of politics. In 2025 too many featherweight politicians arrogantly bounced into the musical/political ring with modern heavyweights like Kneecap and Bob Vylan and were swiftly left on the ropes. The aforementioned incendiary acts closer to public opinion on Palestine than most politicians realised. If you wanted fiery live performances, they delivered that too: seemed like Glastonbury 2025 was a useful barometer for all kinds of musical questions and conundrums. If Wet Leg are “industry plants” then their Glastonbury performance begged the question: is the music industry now into female underarm hair, sweaty musculature, swearing, and lesbian love songs? At 4pm in the afternoon? I very much doubt it, so let’s award Wet Leg return of the year, especially as many naysayers even doubted they’d turn out another album, let alone one as great as ‘Moisturizer’. And Rhian Teasdale could well have been front-person of the year if it weren’t for punchy Irish front-women like Sprints’ Karla Chubb and CMAT’s Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson or NY’s brilliant Princess Nokia, whose appearance on Later was a goth-rap master class and, to my mind, highlight of the series, boasting a performance – charismatic and menacing – which proved she has that very rare spark. No surprise then that her recent album, Girls, is one of the stand-out albums of the year, a total bloody knockout. And let’s hit the canvas for other knockouts like Lea Sen’s ‘Levels’, John Glacier’s ‘Like a Ribbon’, Emma-Jean Thackray’s ‘Weirdo’ and Ellen Beth Abdi’s eponymous debut. For those who wanted (male) contenders of a certain vintage how about Suede, whose ‘Antidepressants’ was 2025’s marvellous dark horse. My favourite compilation of the year was ‘Queen Dem’ released, of course, by Soul Jazz, and according to the blurb a “diverse collection of tracks by female and non-binary artists from around the world”, but don’t let that worthy description put you off, as it was a melodic but in-yer-face slug fest that knocked white mean-girl cheerleader pop (no, not mentioning any names, thank you) into row z. And if you really wanted musical artists from Trumpania, always trust that weird, genuine outsider stuff on the other side of town and let albums by Upchuck (‘I’m Nice Now’), Wednesday (‘Bleeds’) and Turnstile (‘Never Enough’), be your musical guide. Above them all, maybe, float Momma, so good live in 25, but how to explain the appeal? Two talented young female songwriters fronting a band with a whiff of Belly and The Breeders, who, on every album, and this is their edge, pluck memorably sticky melodies and lyrics from God knows where, certainly not from Trump’s MAGA nightmare. That ‘other America’ still living and thriving and providing musical sustenance when needed most. Needless to say, Momma’s album ‘Welcome to My Blue Sky’ never far from the ring. The final musical knockout of 2025. Ding, ding!