Mac DeMarco has a reputation for amazing and at times rambunctious live sets, and his previous show at Red Rocks, opening for Tame Impala in 2016, was an energetic, frenzied playthrough of his first two albums and his “Another One” EP. Two years and a new album later, DeMarco returned to the storied venue, this time to headline in front of an engaging, animated crowd.
Opening for DeMarco were The Free Nationals, probably best known for backing Anderson .Paak, and Noname, the soulful, poetic rapper who brought both bouncy sing alongs and sharp Chicago humor to the stage. Struggling from the high altitude, Noname still managed to soulfully lift the crowd and perform impressively.
For Mac DeMarco, whose position as a prince and figurehead of modern indie music has left him with a cult like, bum-chic-dressing following, live shows have regularly centered around his ability to provide a sense of close-knittness between himself, his band and the crowd—no matter the size. It is impressive to command a crowd, especially one as big as that which Red Rocks provides. It is even more impressive to make that crowd of some 8000 feel like they’re in a small room, jamming along with him and his friends. Between the banter of him and his bandmates, his engagement with the crowd and his good willed lack of pretension and self-inflation, DeMarco makes everyone in a crowd feel like his friend, and this is possibly one of the greatest reasons for his success. Instead of posturing as a Rock God or some untouchable artist, DeMarco takes the stage and one can’t help but feel like they could walk right up to him and start up a conversation like long-time friends.
By the end of “Still Together,” DeMarco’s lovely tribute to his girlfriend Kiera and his perpetual showender, the crowd seemed to realize they’d just enjoyed a one-of-a-kind show, a fantastic production from DeMarco and a great Red Rocks set. However, after the lights went out and the majority of the crowd had left the venue, DeMarco and his keyboardist came back out to the stage and performed in front of those that had remained a teary, sublime rendition of “Watching Him Fade Away.” While the melancholic song is about DeMarco’s father—an already touching subject—the intimate Red Rocks version had a clear connection to the recent death of rapper Mac Miller, whose fatal overdose the previous weekend had cast an obvious shadow over DeMarco. The crowd remained nearly completely silent as DeMarco sang the heartfelt lyrics against the simple piano beat, remarking multiple times on the obvious zeitgeist of the moment, saying “fuck this is too real” at one point, as his face clearly grimaced in grief and sadness. In a few short minutes of song, DeMarco turned what was once a nominal, typically great Red Rocks set into nothing short of an intimate grieving between friends and a touching example of the beautiful symbiotic relationship between venue, crowd and artist.
In its most pure form, music seeks to heal us. Naturally, live performances seem to usually be hedonistic excuses to “let go”. Of course, going to a show to dance your ass off and make a fool of yourself is a wonderful thing, and smoking a joint and jamming along with your friends is a pretty good way to heal one’s soul. But, as DeMarco’s sentimental performance on a steamy night in September showed—sometimes—live music can move from a fun time to an intense session of group therapy, a chance for people to come together and release their collective grief.
