Near the end of fifth grade, Eli Edwards’ mom gave him $20 and told him to go find a friend. His team had won its soccer game that day, so they were out celebrating at a local pizza parlor with games. But, more importantly, there had been one other Black kid that day on the pitch in Spanaway, WA, a Tacoma suburb and military-base town at the rainy northwest corner of the United States. That kid just happened to be Xayvien Young. An instant deep connection was formed between Edwards and Young—Eli and Xay, as they prefer to be called were inseparable— and now twelve years later they are the electrifying, boundary-skipping duo Casi.

Along the way, Eli had relocated to Los Angeles with the indie rock band Enumclaw he had helped found, but he found himself flying home maybe a little too much. He was ostensibly visiting his girlfriend, but he spent most of his time with Xay. They cut tracks in every bit of free time they found until they had an epiphany: Maybe this music they’d made together for a dozen years was actually something special. Casi’s 10-track, self-titled debut out on Carpark Records is the electrifying proof they needed.

On the record, they enthusiastically explore every musical interest they have ever had—explosive hip-hop and unbridled hardcore, high-gloss nü metal and a little bit of emo—as a pair. These songs don’t ignore genre lines; they delight in destroying them, in finding ways to slam hip-hop and hardcore, emo and nü metal together until it seems illogical that they were ever apart. Take “Jumper,” where heavy metal guitars and face-kicking drums stir the moshpit for rabid verses about crushing ICE and the lessons you learn riding the poverty line. And take closer “Bridges,” where the melodic imprint of Deftones meets the relentless confessions of Death Grips. Here are the hard, funny, and loud stories of two 23-year-olds, screaming about the world over a breathless composite of all the music they’ve ever loved.

When Eli was in Los Angeles, Xay missed his friend. But in his absence, he also felt the spark of inspiration. Music was something that had just been their childhood hobby, but now Eli was in a rock band that had press accolades and tours. He got serious about the craft. Eli would write about the dislocation and isolation he felt in California, while Xay would document the hardships of being a young Black man with a complicated family while working menial jobs in Spanaway.

This isn’t a coming-of-age album for Casi; it is, instead, a raw and riveting snapshot of that process, painful as it can be. “Eleven87” is a breakup song, a soul beat springing beneath arching emo vocals. And “Intrusive Thoughts” treats that topic like a punching bag, Eli and Xav fighting against the mental habits that keep them down. These 10 songs instantly close that gap.