Mac DeMarco – Salad Days

Christmas came early, everyone. I mean, at least it did for me. I remember listening to Mac DeMarco’s first full-length album 2 and bobbing my head like a weirdo in my bedroom alone as I did my art homework, the short 2 to 3 minute songs passing by too fast, like summer. The goofy, gap-tooth grinning Canadian has returned with Salad Days, and continues to deliver contagious happy vibes.

Salad Days, as well as any other DeMarco album is best listened to in one sitting. DeMarco is one of the few artists that I prefer to listen to the entire album, rather than picking out my favorite songs and forgetting half of the album even exists. The raspy voice that is a result of years of chain smoking is charming and meshes seamlessly with the beach-y cooing of his old thrift store electric guitar. 2 was a homemade gem, and Salad Days doesn’t stray too far from the laidback bedroom jam vibes. Though Salad Days doesn’t delve into some entirely new genre or song structure, it does feel more grown-up, in the most boyish way; it reminds me of a little boy who just saw his first glimpse of the harshness of the real world, but decided to keep frolicking on the playground anyways.

The slight maturity is heard in the more prominent bass lines and deeper lyrics. Let My Baby Stay tells the story of how his longtime girlfriend, Kiera, was going to be deported back to Canada and includes lyrics that literally made my heart melt. DeMarco reflects on his success with 2 in the song Passing Out Pieces, singing, “I’m passing out pieces of me, don’t you know nothing comes free.” Though the subject matter may be more serious, DeMarco’s signature sound makes it still somehow completely carefree and happy.

Rumored lately to be working with Tyler the Creator, I realized this was a quasi-good person to compare DeMarco to, in terms of goofiness. DeMarco lures people in with his relaxed, cigarette smoke warped tunes and hooks them with his loveable boyish charm.

Also published in tb-two*