TRSH exists in the tension between extremes, a tightrope walk that’s volatile and unpredictable yet built on intentional detail. The Springfield, MO quartet has blurred those lines since forming in 2021, childhood friends frustrated by false starts and determined to start a new project in what frontman Derek Berry calls a “last-ditch effort” to make their musical dreams a reality.  “I was like 23 with a newborn baby and felt like, ‘If it doesn't work, it doesn't work, and if it does, that's cool,’” Berry remembers. It quickly did, with the group’s 2022 debut LP, Kiss Me, breaking through with a fusion of punk and Midwest emo, diary entries set to dexterous guitar work. A prolific series of follow-ups, from singles like “Dad Rock” and their second album, Soporific, to 2024’s Straw Chairs EP, have taken them even further, going viral on social media, racking up more than 15 million collective streams and cementing Berry, Keiran Andrews (bass), Bowen Pennell (drums) and Gunnar Pennell (guitar) as one of the brightest young acts in emo.  Now, on their new LP, STRING THEORY (Wax Bodega), TRSH unleash their most explosive collection yet, equal parts introspective and irreverent topped off with powder-keg energy and self-deprecating charm. There are no saints in TRSH’s songs, but no villains either. Instead, tracks like the fervent first single “dusty,” galloping “drown me in a bathtub” and pained “hyperpop killed my dog,” with its gut-punch refrain “I’m falling apart,” are transparently honest portraits of fucking up and falling short: bad decisions that felt right at the time, awkward apologies and late-night spirals. The moments when you should shut up but the voice in your head – aided by anxiety, neurosis or illicit substances – won’t let you stop talking.  They’re all delivered in raucous form, in sub-two-minute bursts of shimmering production (courtesy of Berry) and intricate technicality while retaining the undeniable energy that has made TRSH’s live show the stuff of legends – where the gap between the group and their audience literally disappears and there’s no telling whether Berry will end up in the crowd or hidden deep behind dozens of fans who climb onstage to scream along with his cathartic words.  “Our sound has definitely evolved in a way that’s both more chaotic and more rooted,” he explains. “This album is more technical, but it’s also easier to listen to. I think it’s important for people who might not be into a certain style of music like math rock to have an entry point that makes sense for them.”  That desire for accessibility will be a guiding force for TRSH as they continue growing. While the songs they write are certainly deeply personal (“Even if I’m ashamed of something, I’d never deny myself a lyric because of it,” Berry says), they’re rooted in the everyday emotions and situations that swirl to make up a beautiful, messy, chaotic life. It’s why they named the album String Theory, a veritable choose-your-own-adventure in terms of the songs’ interpretive openness, but also in some ways a nod to the nimble guitar lines that serve as emotional anchors for TRSH’s deeply resonant songwriting.  “There’s a million different interpretations of actual string theory,” Berry says. “I want people to make this record what they want and interpret the songs in whatever way speaks to them. We wrote them, but they’re not ours anymore. They belong to whoever cares enough to listen.” ## SHORT:  TRSH exists in the tension between extremes, a tightrope walk that’s volatile and unpredictable yet built on intentional detail. The Springfield, MO-founded quartet’s fusion of punk and Midwest emo has cemented them as one of the brightest young acts in the underground, with releases like their 2022 debut LP, Kiss Me and breakthrough single “Dad Rock” racking up more than 15 million collective streams.  Now, on their new album, String Theory, their first for Wax Bodega, Derek Berry (vocals/guitar), Keiran Andrews (bass), Bowen Pennell (drums) and Gunnar Pennell (guitar) unleash their most explosive collection yet, equal parts introspective and irreverent and topped off with powder-keg  energy and self-deprecating charm. Tracks like the fervent first single “dusty,” galloping “drown me in a bathtub” and pained “hyperpop killed my dog” are transparently honest portraits of fucking up and falling short: bad decisions that felt right at the time, awkward apologies and late-night spirals. The moments when you should shut up but the voice in your head won’t let you stop talking.  They’re all delivered in raucous form, in sub-two-minute bursts of intricate technicality while retaining the energy that’s made TRSH’s live show the stuff of legends – where the gap between the group and their audience disappears and there’s no telling whether frontman Derek Berry will end up in the crowd or hidden deep behind dozens of fans who climb onstage to scream along with his cathartic words.