This year was filled with blockbuster music moments.
The Weeknd dropped an album, released an accompanying film, and ended his Grammy boycott. The Junos made history with winners in new categories (Lowell for songwriter, non-performing and AP Dhillon for South Asian music recording of the year). Sum 41 retired. A new Polaris winner was crowned. And Justin Bieber made his long-awaited comeback, dropping not just one, but two new albums.
All of that to say there was, of course, a plethora of new Canadian music. After looking back at the last 12 months, the CBC Music team has selected the 10 best Canadian albums of 2025.
Read on to find out if your favourites made the cut.
10. All Cylinders, Yves Jarvis
WATCH | The official music video for The Knife in Me:
“I was just honoured just to be nominated at all,” said Yves Jarvis after winning this year’s Polaris Music Prize for All Cylinders. As he accepted the prize and thanked his parents, he gave off a blend of joy and surprise, feelings the project also elicits. The colourful, squelchy, lo-fi, sometimes upbeat, sometimes languid record is a cinematic collection of tracks, made all the more impressive given that Jarvis wrote, recorded and produced all of them entirely himself (while couch surfing).
Its appeal lies in part due to it being undefineable: The Knife in Me starts off as a glittering disco number before melting into a soft folk ballad, while With a Grain is a psychedelic dance between jazz and rock. His ravenous appetite for experimentation can be felt across the entire project, and there’s truly no other album from 2025 that sounds like it. “Albums are still the definitive artistic statement for me, but this time, I wanted each song to carry the weight of an entire album on its own,” he told the Luna Collective, and that thought process is undeniable — each song is an entire world existing in the greater puzzle of All Cylinders. — Natalie Harmsen
9. Edge of the Earth, Aysanabee
WATCH | The official music video for Edge of the Earth:
We didn’t have to wait long for the followup to Aysanabee’s Polaris Prize-shortlisted debut album, Watin, and there’s no sophomore slump in sight. (Though we had a feeling: the EP that he released in the middle of both full-lengths, titled Here and Now, garnered the singer-songwriter his first two Juno Awards.) While Watin centered Aysanabee’s grandfather’s story, Edge of the Earth looks inward to deliver a powerful breakup album. “Walking to the edge of the Earth/ and I still haven’t thought of you/ walked away from all of the hurt/ that I kept running to,” Aysanabee sings on the title track’s chorus, wrestling with the dissolution of a relationship as his steady, rich voice readies itself to move forward.
Aysanabee continues to lean into his anthemic sound on Edge of the Earth, which seems only natural when that powerhouse voice is the thread sewing it all together. Even on quieter songs like Into the Fire, an electric current runs through them; as the song ebbs and flows, Aysanabee’s vocals sound effortless in their strength, pushing and pulling the song from the brink. Though Edge of the Earth is more internal for Aysanabee, his grandfather, Watin Aysanabee, still makes an appearance: Without You is a beautiful and grief-stricken dedication to the man who raised him, and who died only two years ago. With Edge of the Earth, Aysanabee has proven that no matter what inspires him, the resulting art will be big-hearted and moving. — Holly Gordon
8. City of Clowns, Marie Davidson
WATCH | The official music video for Y.A.A.M.:
Marie Davidson’s sixth album, City of Clowns, opens on a dystopian-sounding note, with a mechanical voice (Davidson’s own, channelling the calm, automated deliveries of a Siri or Alexa) declaring, “The machine hive has become the role model for a new human hive, in which all march in peaceful unison.” By the end of the track though, it becomes clear: this isn’t a sci-fi future Davidson’s describing, this is the present moment we live in.
Inspired by Shoshana Zuboff’s book The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, City of Clowns is a treatise on our big-tech reality and what it means to be a musician in a time when “more artists tailor their posts to please the algorithm,” as Davidson noted to Enfnts Terribles. Davidson puts on a tour-de-force, one-woman show over 10 tracks, playing the cyborg temptress (“I don’t want your cash now/ all I want is you/ I want your data/ data, baby!” she whispers on Demolition) while reinforcing her own pursuit of authenticity, ending Y.A.A.M. by assuring listeners: “I stick with the weirdos.”
Davidson’s signature sense of humour (a superpower AI can’t replicate) shines over industrial and techno beats. City of Clowns invites people to laugh and dance along, but ultimately challenges you to leave the club thinking more deeply about the state of technology and why it’s important to protect individuality against forces that want to strip us of our humanity. — Melody Lau
7. Who Will Look After the Dogs?, Pup
WATCH | The official music video for Get Dumber:
In classic Pup fashion, the Toronto punk rockers are having fun even in the darkest of times on Who Will Look After the Dogs?, their sharpest, tightest record yet, which compromises on none of the band’s typical grit or humour. The album begins with No Hope: “I don’t need hope/ it’s killin’ me,” sings Stefan Babcock, accurately summing up the current turbulent socio-political period and setting the tone for the rest of the songs that sprint into themes of adulthood, heartbreak and finding purpose. Whether it’s the slow-burning existentialism that’s on display on Hallways or the raucousness of Get Dumber, Pup is in sweaty peak form on this album, ripping through guitar riffs and thrashing drum beats built for thrashing bodies in the mosh pit.
There are enough gut-punching lyrics to serve as the thread of sincerity, though, knotting everything together for the final chorus on album closer, Shut Up: “You’re working through the evenings/ I’m working through the fog/ you’ve got your master’s thesis/ I’ve got my stupid little songs,” Babcock laments. But Who Will Look After the Dogs? feels like a homecoming, not just due to this past summer’s ambitious Mega City Madness tour, but because sonically, the band is functioning as one robust organism. — NH
6. Elements Vol. 2, Tobi
WATCH | The official music video for He’s So Good:
Tobi’s Elements Vol. 2 is all about balance, something he manages with ease over 10 tracks that seamlessly transition between smooth R&B, thumping boom-bap, trap, pop and Afrobeats. Even while the production varies, Tobi’s messages always stay focused, touting ideas of self-love, confidence and resilience. “They tried to bury us and forgot we were seeds,” he raps on Forgot We Were Seeds. Featuring head-nodding production from Dahi (Kendrick Lamar, Childish Gambino, 21 Savage and more) and a guest verse from Chicago’s Mick Jenkins, the track’s self-assured, don’t-underestimate-me energy is reminiscent of Drake’s Started From the Bottom.
Tobi has always incorporated an element of Afrobeats into his projects, a nod to his Nigerian roots, but on album standout Changes he leans right in over layers of soft synths, horns and that distinctive tresillo drum pattern, produced by Toronto’s Andrew “Burd” Liburd (Burd & Keyz). The song also opens with a message in Yoruba — a language from the Nigeria, Benin and Togo region — that basically translates to “I’m walking my own path.” That sentiment doesn’t stop Tobi from paying respect to the artists who walked similar paths before him, though.
Both Saukrates and Jully Black appear on Who’s Driving You?, and the hard-hitting Classified-produced single He’s So Good features Tobi at his most self-assured: “Show ’em the way, ’cause they real nerds on the street/ like braille, the way I make ’em feel words on the sheet,” he raps. Whether he’s singing in his falsetto or rapping with the confidence of a veteran, this is a showcase for a musician fully in command of every lane he occupies. — Jesse Kinos-Goodin
5. Journal d’un Loup-Garou, Lou-Adriane Cassidy
WATCH | The official music video for Dis-moi dis-moi dis-moi:
“Lou-Adriane Cassidy, queen of l’ADISQ,” reads the Radio-Canada headline from early November, after the Quebec City artist won an incredible 12 Félix Awards at Quebec’s annual music industry event. They were all for her work on her third album, Journal d’un Loup-Garou, which was also shortlisted for this year’s Polaris Music Prize, while the lead track, Dis-moi dis-moi dis-moi, was nominated for the inaugural Polaris Song Prize. It’s an impeccable release, a diaristic concept album from the perspective of Cassidy’s inner werewolf, itself a play on her first name (“loup,” meaning wolf) and a nod to Le Roy, La Rose et le Lou[p], her much-loved supergroup with friends Thierry Larose and Ariane Roy.
As Cassidy’s most personal album yet, Journal d’un Loup-Garou sees the singer-songwriter stretch to her full height, taking two months in studio with friends to make an album that is theatrical and grand, “à la fois pop et pas” (both pop and not), as she has described. Album opener Dis-moi dis-moi dis-moi starts with dramatic, measured piano and Cassidy’s solo voice, eventually swirling into a disco-inspired, string-assisted banger that is about Cassidy’s father abandoning her when she was 16. Chanson pour Odile has a more straightforward arrangement, as the guitar-driven pop song — with shades of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers’s Islands in the Stream — lets Cassidy sing about her hopes for her stepdaughter. But Souffle souffle is maybe the perfect encapsulation of Cassidy: it begins gently, Cassidy again singing about her mixed feelings for and memories of her father, but takes a sharp turn to a muted club beat, eventually bursting into a full-on dance song — “Avicii-inspired,” as Cassidy told CBC Music earlier this year. “That’s one of my favourite moments of the album.” It’s unexpected, polished, and leaves you wanting more — which could sum up 2025 for the rising pop star. — HG
4. Bite Down, Ribbon Skirt
WATCH | The official music video for Cellophane:
It’s not every year that your debut album lands on the Polaris short list, but for Montreal post-punks Ribbon Skirt, that’s exactly what happened with Bite Down, a stunning reclamation of lead singer Tashiina Buswa’s Anishinaabe roots. Mixed by Greg Saunier, the drummer from Deerhoof, and mastered by Total Control’s Mikey Young, Buswa and bandmate Billy Riley’s project is full of grunge-y darkness that bravely reflects personal and cultural grief.
“Up on the trapline/ he’s on his way,” Buswa sings, processing the death of her grandfather on Cellophane, before later stripping down the racism within the colonial agenda on Off Rez: “They want my quantum so they send the police/ I want to preserve every part that makes me.” Her immersive lyricism pierces the soul: “Smudging stars across the pavement Sunday night,” Buswa sings, to describe a car crash on the track 41. It’s those poignant songwriting skills that let listeners know the band might be in its early stages, but nonetheless Buswa and Riley are confident and adept storytellers. — NH
3. Through the Wall, Rochelle Jordan
WATCH | The official lyric video for Doing It Too:
On Ladida, off Rochelle Jordan’s third album, Through the Wall, the British Canadian artist catches listeners up on her journey so far. “Met KLSH back in ‘09 in around/ threw me beats and I just hit ‘em out,” she spits, shouting out her longtime producer. Fast forward in both time and on the track, and Jordan’s mission has become assertive and clear: “It’s that time they know they got to kneel.”
Jordan has spent her fair share of time in music industry limbo over the course of her career, and her input in recent years reflects a certainty in who she is and what she wants to sound like. As she told Q’s Tom Power: “Rochelle Jordan is a pop star.” And her formula doesn’t involve chasing trends; she evokes the cool confidence of Janet Jackson, the buttery smooth vocals of Mariah Carey and combines it with R&B, electronic and house influences. There are the retro synths of Sweet Sensation, the Studio 54 glitz of Doing it Too, and the reunion with superstar producer Kaytranada on The Boy. Jordan traverses the past and the present, while brazenly staking claim on the future. Through the Wall is just the beginning of her domination. — ML
2. Swag, Justin Bieber
WATCH | The official music video for Yukon:
On July 10, Justin Bieber’s social media feeds — and billboards around the world — were flooded with images of Bieber holding his son over his head, beside a black square with the word “swag” in the middle. The pop star’s seventh album would arrive 12 hours later. The surprise release had fans who had been waiting four years since his last offering, Justice, in a frenzy. Swag debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Canadian Albums chart, and standout songs Daisies and Yukon quickly inspired countless covers on TikTok.
Swag is perhaps Bieber’s most thematically cohesive project. From the very first verse on opener All I Can Take, he sets the stage for a deeply revealing album: “These symptoms of my sensitivity/ feels personal when no one’s listening.” Bieber has never shied away from vulnerability in his music (he’s a Pisces, after all), but on Swag, his personal explorations feel more intimate and immediate. Musings on the reality of fatherhood, marriage and the public’s perception of him as he enters a new decade of his life permeate the album, especially on Butterflies and Devotion.
Swag is also Bieber’s first album since parting ways with his longtime manager Scooter Braun and signing a special licensing agreement with Def Jam, giving him full ownership of his masters going forward — and complete creative control. Braun called Swag “without a doubt, the most authentically Justin Bieber album to date,” in an Instagram story. Working with many new producers and songwriters for this record, Bieber arrived at a sound that was less all-out-top-40 pop and more subdued, experimental and mature. Dijon and Mk.gee imparted their lo-fi, indie wisdom on a handful of tracks, while Carter Lang (SZA, Rihanna) and Sir Dylan (Rosalia, Daniel Caesar) co-produced a majority of the album. Elements of Motown, U.K. garage, ’90s R&B and roots mix with pop melodies to soundtrack Bieber’s introspections. His new collaborators are mostly a boon, other than a couple confounding choices: the inclusion of Sexyy Red’s jarring verse on Sweet Spot and comedian Druski’s head-scratching Black culture-consultant interludes. Yet, Swag marks a moment in Bieber’s career where he finally seems in control of his sound, image and inner circle, and the result is his most interesting music to date. — Kelsey Adams
1. Saya, Saya Gray
WATCH | The official music video for H.B.W:
The best breakup albums are always as much a reflection of the artist as they are a glimpse into the deterioration of a relationship. As Saya Gray parsed through her emotions after the dissolution of hers, the songs she penned crystallized into her most revelatory artist statement yet. Gray’s self-titled album Saya follows her previous projects — 19 Masters, Qwerty and Qwerty II — and is a window into her view of herself pre- and post-relationship.
The Toronto musician sets her revelations to a mélange of folk, electronic, rock and R&B influences. Gray produced the Polaris-shortlisted album with her brother Lucian, and the two played most of the instruments. They recorded the album at Toronto’s Revolution Recordings and she told the Toronto Star that she took gleeful advantage of their instrument collection: “We basically made them dust off all the outboard gear — stuff from the ’80s and ’90s that hadn’t been touched for 20 years.” Across the album’s 10 tracks, pedal steel meets electric guitar, modular synths meet floating harp melodies, Japanese koto meets glitchy drum patterns as Gray’s anger, resentment, grief, confusion and ultimate acceptance bring the songs to life.
Her songwriting remains as deeply evocative as always, but instead of shrouded metaphors, she delivers direct statements. On Puddle (of Me) she comes to terms with being manipulated (“You know how obsessed I can get with your needle and thread pulling out of me”); on H.B.W she sits with the loss (“There’s a graveyard in my dream/ I lay a flower once a week for you and me”); on Cat’s Cradle she contemplates the toll of the relationship (“You almost took my laugh from me”); and on Lie Down.. she compares herself to the inevitable other woman (“She can look like me/ she won’t feel like me”). Saya masterfully slips listeners into its world of discordant sounds, heartbreak and catharsis — and refuses to let go until the final note. — KA
