Released: 4/1/14
6/7 stars
Whether you call it “jizz jazz” or just good old-fashioned slacker-core indie rock, Mac DeMarco definitely has a distinctive sound, all lethargic vocal deliveries and greasy guitars. It’s the kind of music that’s made for hanging out in your hammock to while the sun beats down and the breeze blows, and ever since his debut EP, the glam-rock flavored Rock and Roll Nightclub, DeMarco’s sound has only gotten looser and more laid back.
Salad Days, DeMarco’s second LP, isn’t much of a change from its predecessor, the 2012 sleeper hit 2, but that’s okay; even though the sound is essentially the same (“Goodbye Weekend” might as well have been called “Ode to Viceroy pt. 2 this time with even more twinkly guitars!”), DeMarco has a long way to go before his languid songwriting starts to sounding derivative – It’s not like anyone else in the indie scene sounds like a redneck Stephen Malkmus.
The introduction of the odd synth flourish roughly halfway through the record goes a long way towards mitigating the “been there, done that” feel that haunts Salad Days’ opening cuts. Standout “Chamber of Reflection” puts the instrument to the best use, creating a seriously stoned 80s throwback whose electronic elements wouldn’t sound out of place aside vaporwave artists like Macintosh Plus or early Oneohtrix Point Never.
The standard DeMarco tunes also standout. First single “Passing Out Pieces” features a wobbly six-string drone that fits perfectly with DeMarco’s ambivalent lyrics, at once trying to express an existential crisis and deflect any resulting gravitas through his trademark ennui, and “Brother” is just catchy enough to warrant that Best New Track it earned over at the notoriously picky Pitchfork.
“Let Her Go” proves another excellent moment, and arguably the most straightforwardly melodic song of his career. Sure, it falls back on that old trope of “if you love her, let her go” that we’ve all heard before, but this time, delivered by a gap-toothed prankster, I can’t help but believe the sentiment.
Salad Days isn’t DeMarco’s Trans, but radical reinvention has never been synonymous with quality music anyway (just look at The National – they’ve made the same great album five times over). Instead, we have a fine-tuning of an already great formula. DeMarco’s even matured a little, replacing songs about meth cooking dads and wigged out neighbors with lyrics about life and love that hit more often than they miss.
Just a couple years ago, Mac DeMarco was known mostly for putting drumsticks where they don’t belong while giving drunken renditions of U2 songs. Salad Days puts some of that to rest and stands on its own as a remarkably mature record from a 23-year old artist.
