Somewhere between fun-loving prankster and tortured artist, between class clown and rock star, is Mac DeMarco. The young multi-instrumentalist released "Salad Days" last week, and this impressive sophomore effort is certain to be played on repeat on both bright beaches and in dark, smoky bars in the coming months.
DeMarco, born Vernor Winfield McBriare Smith IV, rocketed to popularity following the release of his debut album "2" (2012). Standing out among indie rock artists with his trademark slacker sound and famous gap-toothed grin, DeMarco quickly amassed a following that surprised even him. A multimedia artist, as well as a multi-instrumentalist, DeMarco is known for raunchy live shows that often involve nudity, Limp Bizkit covers and off-color jokes.
He recorded "Salad Days" in his cigarette smoke-filled Brooklyn apartment, where he moved last year from his home in Montreal. Before that, DeMarco was recording under the name Makeout Videotape, working with Vancouver-based musician Alex Calder. The sometimes-collaborative effort of self-released EPs started to draw some attention on the Internet in 2009, but it was not until recently that DeMarco truly found a following.
Considered somewhat of a class clown in the indie rock scene, DeMarco's most famous tracks from his previous album include songs like "Ode to Viceroy," a relaxed and velvety number about the cheap cigarette brand. A promotional poster for "Salad Days" even depicts the singer gleefully standing in overalls as a shower of the brand's cigarettes rains around him.
DeMarco's second full-length album, "Salad Days" represents a more refined and polished sound, a smooth and pleasing listening experience that he started to develop on "2." After vowing to stop writing songs "about absolutely nothing," DeMarco makes clear efforts to share real feelings and concerns on his newest album. Somewhat darker than any previous work, DeMarco touches upon issues of his jaded connection with his own artistry, his girlfriend's status as an illegal immigrant in the Unitd States and his anxieties about growing up.
The title song is a peppy track, with scat singing between verses like, "As I'm getting older, chip up on my shoulder / Rolling through life, to roll over and die." The 23-year-old artist explores his personal struggle with aging while also showing a great deal of maturation as an artist.
"Passing Out Pieces," released a few months ago to promote the album, is a dark and organ-heavy piece that is grand in scale.
DeMarco bemoans his feeling of obligation to give away parts of himself in his work, as well as the draining nature of this act. He again touches on anxieties about age, saying, "Watching my life, passing in front of my eyes," and "What mom don't know has taken its toll on me." This offers some meaningful insight into DeMarco's mind a darker side to the giddy young man never seen without a cigarette, who, while his career was still getting going, made money by taking trial medication.
Songs like "Brother" and "Go Easy" play like relaxed beach tunes the type of stoner rock that DeMarco excels at producing. These tracks, light in their hazy delivery but powerful in lyricism, are the ones to put on repeat. "Chamber of Reflection," meanwhile, is darker, with a spinning electronic melody reminiscent of a seedy nightclub in a film noir, complete with haunting and consistent piano notes and DeMarco's repetitive refrain: "Alone, again."
The final song, "Johnny's Odyssey," is an instrumental track that gives the album a sense of completion. The song itself is a miniature journey of sorts. DeMarco begins by showing off his ability to provide extremely pleasing, repetitive guitar riffs that continue extensively before being backed up by bass and drums. After about 30 seconds of silence, DeMarco gives a spoken word finale, saying: "Hi guys, this is Mac. Thank you for joining me. See you again soon, buh-bye."
With gimmicks like this, a promotional track that featured a repetition of "I want pussy," DeMarco's cross-dressing antics and the album's April 1 release, it is easy to feel that this whole project is somewhat of a joke. But the important distinction is that this lightness is coupled with added maturity: DeMarco's increased moments of depressing jadedness balance out with the fact that he is doing exactly what he loves. That humor and joy might just be quite a serious thing.
