New Yorker Quinn Marston doesn’t see the world like most people do. With a keen artist’s eye and ear, she doesn’t let categories get in the way of the things that move her. It’s raw intake — raw output. She doesn’t have a type or a style, yet what she produces is unmistakably from her guitar and her pen. She’s all about paradoxes. She comes as off as shy and quiet, but she plays ice hockey. Her poetry is world-weary yet innocently questioning. Her songs have the backbone of pop hooks and baited melodies yet stubbornly retain a life on the edge of discomfort with subtle shreds of dissonance and lyrical intensity. At 20, Quinn Marston has the sonic sensibilities and verbal aesthetic of someone many years her senior, and as made obvious by the varied makeup of her live audience, Quinn’s songs can speak to people of all generations. We dare you not to be moved.