Sounds like Mac DeMarco's genre of "jizz jazz" has been investing in some surfing lessons and a few tabs of acid. The beloved buck-toothed Canadian's new album Salad Days is one long surreal ride through a glossy barrel, chock full of beachy riffs and floaty absent minded vocals, that could be the soundtrack for Endless Summer III.
Like his rumored collaborator Tyler, The Creator, Mac, born Vernor Winfield McBriare Smith IV, has reached express success via a notorious reputation. Hailing from Duncan, British Columbia, Mac DeMarco guitar licked his way to Montreal in search of recognition, instead he mostly found what every musician finds — poverty and a lack of legitimate work. After submitting himself to various research studies for money, DeMarco released his debut EP Rock and Roll Nightclub, which garnered the special attention of his label who consequently granted him the release of a full LP.
Following the release of said LP, 2, indie hipsters everywhere began to fawn all over the cross dressing buck toothed outcast. DeMarco's live shows can best be described as a combination of a male strip tease and a real wacko stand-up act. Let's just say that this adored character's dick has probably received as much attention as his music at this point. Unfortunately according to a Faster Louder interview Mac DeMarco is "over getting his cock out at shows," but apparently a bit of testicular action isn't quite past him yet.
Salad Days is perhaps a sign of calmer days to come for the eclectic musician. Like a beautiful sunny drive by the beach, his sophomore album is a smooth cruise of refreshing rhythms. A consistent riff style flows throughout the entire album, only stopping for a few chord heavy songs like "Treat Her Better Boy" and "Let My Baby Stay", however,it maintains the same light melancholy throughout. The album opens with its title track, which was the first preview we received of the album, but also surprisingly an inaccurate representation of the album as a whole. In a transitory manner, the "Salad Days" incorporates DeMarco's slightly more aggressive old sound from 2, and also introduces us to his new, softer side. From there, the album dips down into a wispy laid back trip, very similar to MGMT's sophomore work, Congratulations.
Like an ideal come down from grade-A Amsterdam fungi, Salad Days executes a perfectly polished landing from multiform psychedelic to low-key surf rock. I swear Mac keeps an invisible croon machine of seduction in that giant tooth gap, because despite his awkward persona his vocals carry a curious charisma. Strangely romantic lyrics cresting over Mac's transcendent harmony roll as one giant set of soundwaves way too gnarly to miss.