Mac DeMarco – Salad Days (2014)

Mac DeMarco’s initial draw is his aesthetic—he gains a lot of his appeal and notoriety from his outwardly “slacker” appearance. Only 24 years old and hailing from Canada, DeMarco has been a part of the Canadian music scene for a while. Watch any number of interviews or features on him and you’ll see a gap-toothed jokester who doesn’t really seem to give a shit about what anybody is asking him. Comparisons have been drawn to the likes of Tyler, the Creator and the whole Odd Future crew—with good reason. Ironically enough, the aspects that make his latest album, Salad Days such a success sonically are contradictory to his outward appearance. Salad Days is a hauntingly magnificent piece of pop music, drawing its strengths from its painfully honest and borderline depressing lyrics, and accompanied by a distinctly remarkable offbeat sound.

DeMarco has said himself in interviews that he prefers to record his music with as little digital interference as possible, and in one take—something instantly recognizable on Salad Days. Songs like the opening title track, “Blue Boy”, and “Goodbye Weekend” have a strong Bob Dylan-esque singer-songwriter vibe to them, enhanced by the production quality. I could tell before I actually saw Mac’s setup that he recorded most of these tracks in a small bedroom.

However, the defining trait of not only these songs but the entire album is DeMarco’s talent for arrangement. He writes and records his songs by himself, but tours with his band—according to him, the band doesn’t play any part of the writing process, something difficult to tell when listening to the music. The cohesiveness and synergy of not only each instrument within each track, but each track within the album, shows an impressive quality of musicianship.

Speaking of musicianship—that’s actually the best way to describe this album. I’ve read countless attempts at designating Mac DeMarco a suitable genre: pop, indie, indie-pop, singer-songwriter, blues, and every other silly man-made label that has been used to organize artists over the years. Funnily enough, DeMarco refers to his music as “jizz-jazz”—a genre that he himself can’t even describe. You don’t need to allocate Salad Days to its appropriate label to understand, enjoy, or appreciate the refinement of the album.

Most of DeMarco’s lyrics aren’t too cryptic. The entirety of “Blue Boy” is a couple lines preaching the importance of not giving a fuck—which seems to be one of the fundamental aspects of Mac as a person. Some songs, like “Let My Baby Stay”, presumably about his longtime girlfriend trying to gain citizenship in the States, aren’t necessarily his attempt to convey a meaningful message to the world, but rather an introverted and artistic expression. Whether personal or universal, the lyrics on Salad Days coalesce into an ominous look into Mac DeMarco’s life and personality.

The album’s true gems, however, are in songs like “Passing Out Pieces” and “Chamber of Reflection”—both characterized by detuned, distorted synths that he himself have described as “cheesy” and sort of inspired by the Australian psychedelic rock group Tame Impala. These songs sonically resemble something by a band like Beach House or Animal Collective, but retain the same Mac DeMarco feel to them.

Fortunately, DeMarco doesn’t seem to warrant the same amount of contempt as guys like Tyler, the Creator did when they first started making music with a sort of “fuck you” attitude, but this facet of him as a person only serves to strengthen his music—while this persona may initially reel some prospective listeners in, the music will keep them interested. Salad Days is an eerily stunning piece of work, one that’s a proverbial breath of fresh air, and even though Mac DeMarco is only 24 years old, the album manages to feel timeless.

89/100