In a sense, every debut album is a greatest-hits (so far) album.

In a sense, every debut album is a greatest-hits (so far) album. But that’s especially true for The 1975, since the electric R&B quartet played together for 10 years before releasing its self-titled debut, culled from a catalogue of songs written during the bandmembers’ late teens and early 20s.

“We narrowed it down to 16 tracks, and every one of those songs, at one point or another, has been our most important song,” lead singer Matthew Healy says about The 1975. “We just never decided which one it was.”

The album, which the Manchester, England-based quartet began recording in Healy’s bedroom in 2012, reveals a band borrowing from multiple genres; no two songs are exactly alike. There is the guitar-driven “Sex”; the ’80s-pop “Heart Out”; the R&B-tinged “Pressure”; the incredibly raw “Is There Somebody Who Can Watch You”—all woven into a slang-sprinkled coming-of-age narrative.

The 1975 is like a diary, a collection of fresh memories. It speaks to the woman who desperately wants to leave her boring hometown, yet worries about her family; the man who can’t help but pine over the one who just can’t make up her mind; the person who wants to love and be loved and is sometimes scared, frustrated, and hopeful.

Healy, who names Michael Jackson and John Hughes as influences, says that’s no mistake. “It’s a genuine extension of our identity,” he says.

The 1975 formed in 2002, when the members (Healy, drummer George Daniel, guitarist Adam Hann, and bassist Ross MacDonald) were in their early teens. A decade of “messing around” and four name changes later, the group and the album, which debuted at #1 in the UK last month, have attracted worldwide attention. The band supported The Neighbourhood, known for its chart-topping single “Sweater Weather,” in June; played nearly every summer festival imaginable; and even opened for the Rolling Stones.

“It’s a total juxtaposition,” Healy says of the newfound fame. “I went from being in a room and knowing all of those songs and them just being mine, and now they’re absolutely everywhere. It doesn’t feel quite real. This whole year really instills my knowledge of who I am, but it’s also really confused me, conflicted with every kind of idea. It’s two different realities.”

The second reality began in 2009, when their song “Robbers,” a story of love on the run, caught the attention of Jamie Oborne, who would become the band’s manager. After two years of nonstop touring, the band was entertaining offers from major labels, eventually deciding to sign to Oborne’s Dirty Hit Records.

The band members see The 1975 as the soundtrack of their formative years. “Everybody views their adolescence and their memories in a very romanticized, antiquated way,” says Healy. “We learned emotional dialogue through the media, and in regards to the idea of soundtracking your life, it’s very consistent with the idea of your memories being like Polaroids as opposed to clinical images.

“I very much romanticize my past,” he continues. “When I write music, I think about memories and I imagine that being the music to set to it.”

Sonically, the album plays exactly as a soundtrack should, each song setting a scene. There are the peppy highs of young love and the heartbreaking lows of love gone awry. There are teary goodbyes to loved ones and mundane drives with friends around town, all narrated by a foursome that can tap into exactly how listeners feel.

Looking to the future, Healy seems slightly overwhelmed by the band’s touring schedule, which is booked through December 2014. He’s excited to play for a growing fan base; he just hasn’t quite gotten a handle on the amount of attention The 1975 is receiving.

“It’s very hard to explain,” Healy says. “If you imagine throwing a party in your hometown and 50 people show up, that’s a good feeling, innit? Imagine going around the world doing that every night for 2,000 people. It’s incredible. It really is.” Saturday.

With Linus Young.

Neumos, 925 E. Pike St., 709-9442. neumos.com. 8 p.m. Sold out. All ages.

music@seattleweekly.com