Album Review: Quentin

Some things are fleeting, and Quentin insists you do not forget that — but the Greeley band will comfort listeners through cynic solidarity.

Their name derives from the classic William Falkner novel “The Sound and the Fury” and the band is comprised of five jazz musicians who study music at University of Northern Colorado. This means the personnel are intellectual, career musicians, so their sound is meticulous and technical. However, the EP is not hollow braggadocio. Accompanying the musicianship is sentimental, empathetic songwriting.

According to their Facebook page, they play “complicated music to make you think about death and get sad and stuff,” a line borrowed from the “Scott Pilgrim” series. Like the source material of their description, Quentin’s music is steeped in melancholy.

The four track EP is tightly packed with lines that will illicit anguished eye rubbing and drooped head swaying. On track three “Smoke and Bone,” vocalist Arianna Snow croons, “I feel your mouth insipidly; we are tinged with empty apathy … Entwined with you but I’m alone; moments from now we’ll smoke and bone.”

Caviler 20-somethings, gluttonous for 21st century gloom, will identify with Quentin’s sound. If, however, you are immune to the human condition, and somehow immutably content, you can also find a lot to love about Quentin (but you may first want to address the lie you’re living).

Themes of empty relationships, impermanence and pining for fictional characters are the fuel, but propel grooving, oftentimes danceable, melodies. The music is surprisingly accessible coming from a quintet of jazz musicians.

Their EP is the perfect summer listen — a July afternoon so beautiful it makes you sulk. For reference, members cite Radiohead, Broken Social Scene and Modest Mouse as influences, and the sonic tradition of these musically savvy, commercially accessible sad-pop groups is alive in Quentin.