Best Album of 2014

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.