Mac Demarco seems to be constantly in motion. Although his style of music could most aptly be entitled slacker-stoner rock, but the thoughts behind it provide something more. What separates Demarco from fellow lazy rockers is his ability to promote himself. The gap-toothed smile and unique guitar sound that he unequivocally owns is instantly recognizable.
After a year and a half of touring his home country of Canada and most of America, he finally sat down and recorded the sequel to 2012’s beloved “2.” “Salad Days,” released Tuesday, April 1, is a lesson in maturity, a reflection on the lifestyle Demarco leads and a collection of songs that blend together into one hazy, thought-provoking album.
“Salad Days,” an idiomatic expression borrowed from Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra,” means exactly what it sounds like. Demarco is taking a second-glance at his fresher and greener youth—his “salad days.” Some of the exuberance that crowded “2” has faded and left a more melancholic and mature Demarco, who constantly pines for his girlfriend. Songs such as “Let Her Go,” “Let My Baby Stay,” “Treat Her Better” and “Go Easy” are all destined to end up on the playlists of romantically-inclined teenagers in the coming months. This thought does not grow old like it should though. Like most of Demarco’s works, “Salad Days” is a stream-of-conscious effort, the sounds constantly flowing and blending together for a more cohesive, dreamy sound that few artists can achieve in a similar way.
Lead single, “Passing Out Pieces” is possibly the most lyrical track on an album more focused on sound. It is also the most attention-grabbing song on the album; the first note is a strong, synthy-horn punch that would wake anyone up and shake them into proper appreciation. After the opening thuds, lyrics start spilling out of Demarco’s young mouth. All the self doubt that comes with being a musician is apparent. The struggles of dealing with a sudden jolt of fame show up here and then spread their overtones throughout the rest of the album.
Lyrics such as “Passing out pieces of me / Don’t you know nothing comes free?” and “Watching my life passing right in front of my eyes / Hell of a story, or is it boring?” are questions that reverberate in existential thought and change the dynamic of a seemingly direct album. He can not tell if there is a difference between who he is on stage and who he is with his friends. And if there is, is that difference good? He pits the naiveté of his youth against the more mature thoughts he has been having as he grows older and experiences more of life.
What made Demarco so popular to begin with was the carefree exuberance he extended in his songs and the Tyler, the Creator-esque disdain for the rules. But similar to Tyler, Demarco’s music shows an elevated understanding of the confusing element of emotion. While Tyler has showed this with angry, riot-causing tendencies and multi-album, cinematic storylines. Demarco contrasts this with intimate details. His music falls into and out of a smoky haze, distilling any preconceived notions that his rapidly growing fan base may have placed on him.
In the end, though, “Salad Days” seems like a stopgap album, one that will make his spotlight even brighter but should be marked as a stepping stone for later greatness. Evidence for this can be obtained in the final song, “Jonny’s Odyssey.” It is by far the biggest departure sonically on the album. While all the other songs seem to be set in their tonal language, “Jonny’s Odyssey” follows a rising string of action. The only track with no vocals, it closes the album on a high pitch.
Thematically, this forebodes even greater music to come, Demarco departs us with a tantalizing glimpse into the future of both his music and of his own thoughts.
