The beach is not the first setting you think of when it comes to jazz, not even the smooth, folk-inspired kind offered up by double bassist Quinn Sternberg and his quartet. Yet a beach of the mind is exactly what they offer—quiet solitude that allows you to watch the world go by. Make no mistake: this is not “lite jazz” and it does not approach “yacht rock.” Like the beach, this is a complex microcosm, not just a womb of gentle white noise. 

Keeping things largely acoustic—unlike his more traditional, more “cool” debut Weird World, the subtle tones of guitarist Chris Alford dominate rather than the piano—Quinn and his cohorts create a sound that can surprise you with its sudden complexity, if not quite ferocity. On postcards like “Homesick” and the title track, placidity gradually turns into mild chaos: Quinn and drummer Brad Webb’s rhythm section undercurrent roils, Alford’s guitar churns like storm clouds about to roll in, and Sam Taylor’s sax divebombs like hungry scavenger birds. The lone cover slows “Scarborough Fair” to a crawl in order to unspool all the anguish from the famous melancholy melody. And the last track, “Remnants,” ends with a sudden tape stop, as if someone suddenly remembered they’d left something urgent behind. You know, the way most uneasy vacations end.