Growing up, Hop Along singer and songwriter Frances Quinlan harbored dreams of becoming a fiction writer, which helps explain, in part, why so many of the band's songs unfold like sharply crafted short stories.

Growing up, Hop Along singer and songwriter Frances Quinlan harbored dreams of becoming a fiction writer, which helps explain, in part, why so many of the band's songs unfold like sharply crafted short stories.

"I minored in creative writing in school, so I've always gravitated towards a narrative, absolutely," said Quinlan, 29, who joins her bandmates for a concert at Double Happiness on Friday, Feb. 26.

The narratives populating the band's latest, Painted Shut, from 2015, are shaped by Quinlan's own experiences ("Powerful Man," a blunt depiction of parental abuse, stemmed from an experience where the singer witnessed a father striking his child), as well as the various movies, books and historical individuals that have captured her attention over the years. Quinlan penned "Buddy in the Parade," for one, after reading about the life of jazz musician Charles "Buddy" Bolden, who was committed to an asylum and died in 1931.

"I read about him a long time ago. I must have been 20, but it just stuck with me," Quinlan said. "I didn't know how to write about something that intense back then. I didn't have the capacity for it, and I knew I didn't, so I just kind of avoided it. It took a long time … to feel the confidence to address it, and I almost felt wrong in doing so. I have no concept of those experiences, so it was almost like who am I to speak on it?"

At times, Quinlan constructs verses with a poet's eye, while other songs are significantly more blunt, the frontwoman wielding her words the way Dae-su Oh wields a hammer in "Oldboy." "Your dad told you not to look at me/ Down came the fist hard upon your head," she sings on "Powerful Man," her cracking voice heightening the sense of powerlessness in her words. "I was the only other adult around."

"I read a couple things where people were complaining about how direct it is, and how there's no poetry [in the language], but I think sometimes it's important to speak about those moments. Of course there's no poetry, what's poetic about seeing a kid get beat up by his dad? What's beautiful about that?" said Quinlan, who first picked up an acoustic guitar at 16, setting her teenage poems to music with the help of an older brother. "It was the most uncomfortable I felt with the subject matter of a song. It certainly doesn't place me in a very flattering or admirable light, but it felt like the most important thing I'd ever written."

Regardless, Quinlan doesn't envision staking out similar ground once the band regroups to begin work on a follow-up, espousing a desire to hit reboot with each album.

"I don't want to write about the same things over and over," she said. "As soon as I finish a record, I'm right back at square one where I don't know what to say or what kind of music I even want to write. I have to begin all over again."