Mac DeMarco, a kooky Canadian with a knack for offbeat pop
songs, made quite a name for himself this past year. Generally not giving a
shit, chain-smoking and troubadour-ing his way across the continent in support
of his second album Salad Days, DeMarco
did little to dispel his characterization as a stoned slacker. Whether treating audiences to jokey covers of
nu-metal jock jams or weirdly grooving through his own blue-wave tunes, he won
over audiences, critics and me with his comfortably careless approach.
Salad Days is a
laidback set recorded entirely by DeMarco.
He played and taped all the instruments himself in a home-studio that’s
been described as a cramped and cluttered, secondhand-smoke-coated cell-like
den. He’s likened this Brooklyn apartment
to a “Chamber of Reflection” that allowed him to write and focus, free of
distraction. And, after hearing the
results, it seems the environment both suited and stimulated DeMarco.
Consider “Brother;” it’s a bit sloppy, somewhat slinky and
certainly unconcerned with shiny perfection. The same can be said for the album as a whole. It almost feels like a collection of demos, songs
thrown together for the hell of it, without any real hope of mainstream
success. That’s what I find so charming about
Salad Days and that’s why it’s
GimmeDanger’s best album of 2014.
From the warm, fluid flow of “Blue Boy,” which happens to
feature the album’s coolest, most bubbly bass-line, to the slowly wafting
“Goodbye Weekend” and what might be the set’s closest thing to a guitar solo,
DeMarco colors Salad Days with hues
of ambivalence. It’s as if everything is just as it should be. Even when he lazily
pleads “please, go easy with my baby,” he also seems to accept that, good or
bad, “that’s the way life goes.”
I like “Let Her Go” best.
It moves, it sways. It advises a
guy, any guy, to be true to himself and his girl. But beyond the sentiment, it transports. Use your imagination. Picture palms, sand between your toes, a
sweaty drink in your hand. Or picture an
open road ahead of you, wind in your hair and the sun on your face. Or put yourself in my position when I first
heard it: staring at the ceiling, head swimming, a contented smile forming as mine eyes slowly closed…
Oh, and dig this lyric: “you’re no better off living your
life than dreaming at night.” Think about it.
We're all witness to an age where music seems so calculated, where artists and producers are honing in on
their target audience or methodically ticking boxes on the checklist of
credibility. To a small degree, I'm okay with that. I'm realistic. Nonetheless, it’s really refreshing to hear someone drifting along, embodying the DIY-mentality with such lovely results.
Kudos, Mac.
See you again soon. Buh-bye.
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