Simon RushworthBlues brother (and occasional jazz junkie) John Burrows is back to cast his eye over his top titles of 2025. Pour yourself a neat Bourbon, tune down the lights and prepare to breathe in the raw emotion…
10. Bob Corritore — Doin’ The Shout
This isn’t a showcase. It’s a blues record. Straight down the line.
Bob Corritore brings in a small crew of trusted vocalists and each song is cut close. The band is tight, the mixes are dry and every track hits a groove and sticks with it — everything sounds like it was tracked with the clock running. Corritore plays sharp and fast here, not to show off — just to keep it moving.
Standouts? That depends what you’re here for. It’s My Life and Woman Wanted are straight to the point. I Guess I’m a Fool stretches out a little more. None of it feels loose. None of it sounds forced.
Doin’ The Shout! is straight blues. Played, recorded, done. That’s it.
9.Makaya McCraven — Off The Record (XL Recordings)
Off The Record isn’t a greatest hits. It’s a blueprint. Four EPs — Techno Logic, PopUp Shop, Hidden Out!, and The People’s Mixtape — pulled together into one set that maps out exactly how Makaya McCraven sees modern jazz: hybrid, fractured, looped, live, stitched and still swinging.
These aren’t polished studio takes or head-solo-head throwbacks. They’re live performances reshaped after the fact — chopped, rebuilt, and flipped until they feel more like beat tapes than traditional jazz records. But nothing here feels cold or overworked. The pulse stays human. You can hear the push and pull of real players, even as the edits cut across the grain.
PopUp Shop is loose and percussive, vibraphone floating over tight drum and bass interplay. Hidden Out! goes darker — moodier textures, tense grooves, all forward motion. Techno Logic is the most experimental: full of low-end throb and sudden angles. And The People’s Mixtape might be the most immediate – deep pocket, sharp phrasing, and a constant sense of movement.
McCraven isn’t interested in proving a point. He’s building something. Off the Record feels like a sketchbook, a mixtape, and a manifesto all at once – restless, grounded, and completely his.
8. Robert Jon & The Wreck – Heartbreaks & Last Goodbyes (Journeyman Records)
This is the record Robert Jon & The Wreck have been threatening to make for a while. Heartbreaks & Last Goodbyes strips back the excess and leaves only what matters: big choruses, better songs, and a sound that finally captures the weight they’ve always had live.
Working with Dave Cobb was the right call. His fingerprints are everywhere — not in the songwriting, but in the tone, the space, the intent. The band tracked live, used Cobb’s vintage gear, and it shows. The drums land harder, the guitars sit wider and there’s air in the mix that wasn’t there before.
Sittin’ Pretty sets a strong tone — confident, loose, full of intent. Ashes In The Snow and Highway bring melody without softening the edges and Long Gone is pure Southern rock radio gold. The title track is a standout: bold, bruised and built to last. Closer Keep Myself Clean finishes things with a steady hand and no theatrics.
It’s the sound of a great live band captured properly in the studio. No overplaying, no wasted motion — just solid, grown-up rock and roll, made by people who know exactly what they’re doing.
7. Antone’s 50th Allstars — The Last Real Texas Blues Album (New West Records)
The Last Real Texas Blues Album? Bold title — but fair play, they back it up. This isn’t a tribute or a history lesson. It’s a statement: live-sounding, unvarnished blues with zero apologies and even less polish. A celebration, sure — but one that smells like beer, sweat, and valve amps, not a museum exhibit.
Put together to mark 50 years of Austin’s legendary Antone’s club, the lineup reads like a love letter to the scene: Jimmie Vaughan, Sue Foley, Gary Clark Jr, Carolyn Wonderland and a revolving cast of players who all know the difference between blues as a sound and blues as a feel. Nobody’s trying to outplay each other. Nobody needs to.
Bobby Rush and JVaughan open with Going Down and it hits like a warning shot — tight, greasy and full of swing. Jivin’ Gene’s Flip, Flop and Fly barrels along like it’s closing out a Friday night, while Kam Franklin brings it full circle with If (I Could Be With You) — not with a bang but with soul. It’s raw, controlled and bloody good.
They called it The Last Real Texas Blues Album. Turns out, they meant it.
6. Samantha Fish – Paper Doll (Rounder Records)
Paper Doll is Samantha Fish at her most sharp-edged and controlled: a blues-rock record that hits hard without turning into a volume contest. The guitars are big, gritty and up front but the real hook is the pacing. She knows when to squeeze a riff until it’s nasty, when to drop the band to a simmer and when to let a vocal line do the damage on its own.
Her voice is the centre of it all — confident, bruised, occasionally snarling — and the production frames it like a spotlight rather than a gloss coat. There’s a modern weight to the low end and a punchy drum sound that keeps everything moving, even when the mood turns dark. The melodies are simple enough to stick but not so tidy they lose tension.
What lands best is the attitude: not posturing, not retro cosplay — just a working musician sounding locked-in, impatient with filler and fully aware of how to make a three-minute song feel like a statement. It’s tough, catchy, and built to be played loud. If you came for purity, you’ll find the roots but it’s the bite that wins. Every chorus feels built for the stage and it leaves you wanting more again.
5. Bobby Rush & Kenny Wayne Shepherd — Young Fashioned Ways (Deep Rush Records)
Bobby Rush isn’t slowing down. Kenny Wayne Shepherd isn’t showing off. And Young Fashioned Ways proves that when both men stay in their lane, the results are lethal.
This is a record built on feel, not flash. Rush — still all snap, grin and innuendo — sounds right at home, half preaching, half flirting, always in the pocket. His voice is pure character: cracked in the right places, smooth when it needs to be.
Shepherd plays it smart, keeping the fretboard fireworks holstered and focusing instead on tone, texture and weight. It’s the most disciplined he’s sounded in years — no bloated solos, no blues-by-numbers but just the right riff at the right time.
This has no right to work as well as it does. Two players from different generations, both knowing exactly what not to do — but sounding all the better for it.
This is grown-man blues done right.
4. Andy Fairweather Low – The Invisible Bluesman (The Last Music Company)
Andy Fairweather Low doesn’t kick the door in on The Invisible Bluesman — he ambles up, orders a pint and, within 30 seconds, you remember why half the British rock scene trusts him to make things feel right. This is a blues record made by someone who’s spent a lifetime on stages: tight, warm and properly played.Â
Low’s guitar work is all about intent. Every note lands where it should, nothing feels thrown in. He’s not trying to impress — he’s playing like someone who knows exactly what a song needs and what it doesn’t. That kind of restraint only comes from miles on the clock.
Gin House Blues is a standout — the best version of the song you’ll hear. Low doesn’t mess with it, he just owns it. Blues playing this sharp doesn’t come along often — and when it does, it shuts everyone else up.
3. Charlie Musselwhite — Look Out Highway (Forty Below Records)
There’s a casual danger to this record — like a man who’s got nothing to prove but still knows exactly where the bodies are buried. Look Out Highway doesn’t come in loud; it just leans in and stays there, all tension and pulse, like it knows something you don’t.
The harmonica work is sharp, but never showy — more scalpel than spotlight. Charlie Musselwhite doesn’t blast through solos, he stalks them. Everything’s dialled in low and dry, with that slow-burn confidence that only comes from doing it for decades without getting bored. There’s swing, there’s shuffle, but nothing ever tips into pastiche or pose.
It’s not a party record. It’s not designed to win over the kids. It’s one of those albums that sounds better after dark, with the volume just a bit too high and the room slightly too quiet. The grooves roll on without fanfare, the vocals barely rise above a mutter, and somehow that makes it all hit harder.
You don’t listen to Look Out Highway for fireworks – you listen because it sounds like the truth. No drama. No tricks. Just the blues, stripped to the bone and still standing.
2. Robert Kane – Blues is Blues (Conquest Music)
Blues Is Blues is a dirty, boots-on-the-floor stomp of a record. No polish, no shine, no attempt to smooth the edges. It’s loud, gritty and unapologetically rough around the edges, built on riffs that grind and grooves that feel like they were tracked live and left to wander.
This is blues played with muscle. Guitars snarl and scrape, drums push hard, and the whole thing lurches forward like it’s crawling for trouble. Robert Kane isn’t interested in finesse or tasteful restraint — he wants impact and he gets it by keeping everything raw and direct.
And that’s why it works. In a world of blues records that feel polite, Kane’s sounds like it was made in a room where the floorboards complain. If you want grit, swagger and a proper dirty vibe, this is your record. No shine, no sermons — just boots and bruises.
1. John Butler Trio – PRISM (Because Music)
PRISM is acoustic blues done at full scale. No filler, no left turns — just groove after groove, built with intent and delivered with conviction. It’s weighty. Layered acoustics, locked-in rhythms and melodies stacked until they form a dense, immersive whole.
The playing is classic John Butler — percussive, rhythmic, precise — but the real strength is how relentlessly song-focused the album is. Choruses land hard and stick, harmonies are everywhere, and nothing feels overworked or indulgent — the groove does all the lifting.
What makes PRISM stand out is how complete it feels. Every track earns its place, the momentum rolling without dips or distractions. It’s big without being bombastic for the sake of it, melodic without being soft, and confident in its own ideas. It’s a big, full-bodied record that knows exactly when to hold back.
This isn’t reinvention and it doesn’t need to be. PRISM doesn’t chase moments or messages — it locks into a groove and refuses to let go.