Trousdale - Growing Pains
- Samuel Stevens
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
There’s something uniquely disarming about Trousdale’s music—something that settles into the soul like a phone call from an old friend, equal parts gentle reassurance and unfiltered truth. On their sophomore album, Growing Pains, out April 11, 2025, via Zula Records, the Los Angeles trio of Quinn D’Andrea, Georgia Greene, and Lauren Jones, dive headfirst into the messiness of becoming—grappling with heartbreak, burnout, codependency, and self-discovery—emerging not unscathed, but stronger. This is a record of deep feeling and stunning harmony, one that doesn’t offer easy answers, but rather, sits in the tension of change and finds beauty in the ache.
If 2023’s Out of My Mind was their indie-pop calling card, Growing Pains is a confident expansion of their sonic identity. Co-produced with John Mark Nelson (Suki Waterhouse, Shaboozey), the album leans harder into country textures and live-band energy while still embracing the lush, emotive pop that first earned them praise. Nelson’s big-picture instincts help keep the record cohesive and cinematic, even as each track stands as a little world of its own. The result is Trousdale’s most mature, moving, and musically adventurous work yet.
The opening title track, “Growing Pains,” sets the tone—both thematically and emotionally. It's an anthem for anyone trying to balance the dream with the reality, infused with just enough self-aware humour to keep it from collapsing under its emotional weight. “Living the dream / but the dream can be hard,” they sing, backed by warm guitars and swelling harmonies that sound like sunlight through a stormcloud.
“Over and Over” follows with its brutal honesty and late-night melancholy. A co-write with John Mark Nelson, the track captures that familiar post-breakup sting—running into your ex just when you’ve barely begun to breathe again. With a mix of grace and grit, Trousdale manages to make heartbreak sound almost beautiful.
Throughout the album, the band expertly blends genres and moods without ever losing their emotional throughline. The track “Want Me Back” is just one of many in a masterclass in cross-genre alchemy, weaving pop hooks, country licks, and even some doo-wop into a breakup bop that feels both nostalgic and fresh, but emotively poignant.
“Secondhand Smoke,” one of the record’s heaviest and most heart-wrenching songs, is an emotional powerhouse. With sparse instrumentation and haunting lyricism, it unpacks the trauma of loving someone who’s toxic—and the soul-shattering decision to walk away for your own survival.
However, not every song on Growing Pains is steeped in sorrow, though. “Don’t Tell Me” brings some sass and confidence; it's a pushback against being underestimated. “Warm Shoulder, Cold Heart” is sharp and simmering, full of tension and restrained fire. "Save Me" brings in a funk flair to their sonic palate. And finally, the penultimate tune “Vertigo” swirls in its own dizzy, atmospheric weight—sonically evoking the disorientation that comes with both heartbreak and healing.
Closing track “Last Bloom” leaves us on a hopeful note. It’s a reminder that even in the harshest seasons, new life is always possible—that growth doesn’t always look pretty, but it’s worth it. “From what was, something new can always grow,” D’Andrea says, and this album makes that sentiment feel not just believable, but essential.
Growing Pains is a testament to the power of songwriting as catharsis and connection. It’s for fans of The Chicks and Kacey Musgraves, sure, but also for anyone who’s ever needed to ugly-cry in their car, anyone who’s ever started over, anyone who’s ever felt too much and loved too hard. Trousdale’s harmonies are as flawless as ever, but it’s their vulnerability—braided through every lyric, every note—that makes this record unforgettable. Trousdale’s Growing Pains doesn’t shy away from discomfort—it embraces it, learns from it, and turns it into art that aches and soars in equal measure.
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