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The 10 albums for actually achieving your New Year’s resolutions

Be it Death Grips or Taylor Swift, these albums should make for a much better 2025.
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Listen to Weezer for a better 2025. Brendan Walter
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The dawn of each new year brings with it a strange ritual: We tell ourselves this will finally be the moment for some profound personal change, a new world to somehow occupy. Be it weight loss, kicking cigarettes or going back to school, resolutions always roll around in January.

But for most of us, that burst of momentum runs down by say, early March, and the rest of the year's spent in a spiral of self-hatred. But what if this year actually could be the year?

Not because your family or some hack motivational speaker believes in you, but because you have the sounds of the universe coursing through your veins. And by that, of course, we mean a well-curated list of 10 albums that, upon their respective consumption, will help you achieve your goals, kick bad habits and generally be a better you (without needlessly purchasing health tonics or self-help books).

Turn on these records by artists The Roots and Taylor Swift, feel the positive vibes (among other sentiments) and set fire to your old self.

Queens of the Stone Age, Songs for the Deaf

There's two key threads within this 2002 classic. The first is this yearning for escape, and a need to get away from your problems and worries. The second is that we're somehow in the midst of some desert-based dystopia, racing around the sun-cracked landscape of a fallen world. (Weird how both of these "themes" feel connected, yeah?) All of that together should fill you with this anxious burst of energy that's perfect for leaving behind the old world for something new. Or, the value of momentum in escaping that which doesn't work anymore. Perhaps it might make you feel all of that mighty energy at once, deep in the very crux of your bones. Either way, it's the record perfect for your own personal revolution.

The Roots, How I Got Over

With "How I Got Over," this Philly crew presents a formula for self-improvement. One, strip yourself down to your very emotional core ("Walk Alone"). Then, give yourself a little motivation for the journey ahead ("Right On" and "Doin' It Again"). Always expect some instance of doubt or other missteps ("Dear God 2.0"), but there's likely growth and transcendence to follow ("DillaTUDE: The Flight of Titus"). It's an album that puts the work of growth and personal evolution squarely on your shoulders, and makes it so we're all in charge of our own happiness (including knowing why we're unhappy in the first place). It's not an easy road to the "New You," but man does it sound great.

Fall Out Boy, Infinity on High

One Guardian review for this record totally nailed it: "They may not be happy, but they haven't forgotten to be catchy." That's not just a great encapsulation of FoB's big "breakthrough" into pop but also just a really great motto for life in general. Because, yeah, we'd always like to be happy and fulfilled, but that's not always the case. What the band learned, then, is that if you can be loud and shimmery all the time (see "The Take Over, the Breaks Over"), then you can find something resembling happiness, fulfillment, purpose, etc. It's not actually those things, but a close enough replica to seizing the day and making things better. And it all starts with the right mood and a little razzle dazzle.

Taylor Swift, Folklore

If you wanted to truly and meaningfully delve into yourself, there's heaps of Swift records that'll have you seeing the light. But 2020's "Folklore," however, is special among the singer's catalog: maybe it wasn't the most universally beloved by critics, but even those folks commended Swift for growing up. And the 16-track LP reflects that perfectly: it's an artist recognizing what works, changing what doesn't and having the courage to soldier on. Even those of us who aren't billionaire pop stars can see the value in championing the good parts of ourselves and still making adjustments that make us smarter, more effective, less inept, etc. The journey to a better (less annoying?) you is paved with uncertainty, but it should probably begin with some praise and hard truths alike.

Raekwon, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx

The title of "greatest rap album ever" gets thrown around way too often. If any such record deserved it, however, the so-called "Purple Tape" really is a masterclass in truly great hip-hop. Some folks hear it and think about the heavy emphasis on "Mafioso rap," or the references to both Cristal and Quentin Tarantino. But what you should here is a man at his pinnacle, as Raekwon is equally charming, verbose and evocative. He's a rapper at his most effective, slinging rhymes with heart and precision in a way that's defined the modern game (without ever feeling so presumptuous). In short, it's a lesson for all of us to be ourselves, believe in that core power and let the world know how dope we are in every way. You can't ever be Raekwon, but you can certainly come close enough.

Weezer, Pinkerton

It seems like so far in this list we may have lied just a smidgen. Through these various great records, we've made it seem like all you have to do is believe and you'll be a smarter/less dumb version of yourself in no time. No, as Weezer proved with their seminal second album, change is generally hard work. Whether that's overcoming your romantic deficits ("Pink Triangle"), figuring out what you're really about ("El Scorcho") or suffering actual growing pains ("The Good Life"), the move between your two selves is awkward and uneven. But if you can embrace that process, sort of like when growing out your hair, you just may have the courage to truly change. Otherwise, "Why Bother," you know?

The National, Trouble Will Find Me

Admittedly, The National's solemn, sometimes mournful brand of indie rock isn't very motivational. (Unless you need motivation to weep openly in the supermarket.) But with their sixth studio album, the Brooklyn collective really hit a high point, delivering these lush, ornate ballads and jams that really captured the power of their deeply human efforts. It's a collection of tracks that will cut you deep, connect you to the root of your daily life and maybe your personal struggles and even let you feel the power of some shared grief/misery. That community and connectivity are key in breaking through to some new understanding, even if it's why you're a weepy weird or maybe just how to get out of your own way. Through that "bond" some big things can actually take root.

Death Grips, The Money Store

Be it the, um, less than wholesome album cover, or extra confrontational songs like "System Blower," this LP ain't your average motivational offering. Instead, the real charm of this 13-track LP is that it's ability to get you moving isn't based on hokey phrases, emotional manipulation and/or generally cheesy, faux enthusiastic vibes. The true power of "The Money Store," then, is the angry barking and ferocious vibes, the robust aggressiveness and sharp turns and the fact that the group couldn't care less about connecting with or supporting listeners. It's pouring nuclear waste into your steam engine, and it'll make you move and feel even if you aren't quite so inclined. You don't want to know what happens otherwise.

Bad Bunny, YHLQMDLG

Bad Bunny's second album translates to "I Do Whatever I Want." Not only is it just a clever little title but a damn fine life motto for a new year. Still, it's not just about swagger and bravado from the Puerto Rican rapper; he spends all 66 minutes of the record bounding between dembow, reggaeton and even pop and dance ballads. The point is, if you're going to live that "I'm the boss of my own world" life, then you're going to have to 1) take some risks and 2) be utterly unafraid to get a little weird and wild with your work/projects. If you can back up that chutzpah, then the sky really is the limit. Plus, if you somehow fail, people might think you're cool for having the guts to look like an idiot.

Rancid, Indestructible

Lots of albums chronicle heartache and/or other forms of loss and disappointment. But Rancid's sixth album gives you a kind of roadmap for how to actually go from sullen loser to vibrant "new you." That means hyping yourself up through the pain ("Indestructible"); going a little crazy ("Travis Bickle"); hitting the road ("Memphis" and "Tropical London"); and leaning hard into your pals ("Fall Back Down"). Only then, dear friends, can you not only roar back to life after some great personal tragedy, but do so in a way that you're suddenly bigger and bolder than ever before. It's an album for learning that the next great adventure carries with it friendship and promise, and all you've got to do is get moving.