On a personal level, I don't think I've come across another artist throughout the entirety of 2013 whose music I value and recommend as strongly and as vivaciously as Mac DeMarco. First having listened to '2', the Canadian 23 year old's debut album in early autumn of this year, this is an artist whose music I feel I've really connected with, in that rare and unprecedented sort of way that knocks you sideways to a certain extent, and I've no doubt the same would be said by countless others.
Born in British Colombia, Canada, in April 1990, DeMarco released a self-produced album, 'Heat Wave' in 2008 after moving to Vancouver, also working on multiple psychedelic video projects during time, influences which would later feed into his offbeat, vibrant and often satirical music videos following the release of singles from '2'. After joining forces with band members Alex Calder and Jen Clement and touring alongside Vancouver-hailing duo, Japandroids in 2009, DeMarco considered the prospect of seeking work as a solo artist. Keen to catalyse this transition, he proceeded to relocate to Montreal in 2011 and released an EP, 'Rock and Roll Nightclub' in early 2012. Captured Tracks, DeMarco's new found label, were impressed enough by the EP, laced with slowed-down vocals and 'skits', that they agreed to produce a full-length album.
Rippling with shimmering distorted guitars and gloriously serene psychedelic overtones, the album is undeniably a boundary-pushing, self-indulgent and ostentatious gem for modern music. The nonchalance with which its protagonist conveys the dream-like, awe-inducing lyrics, spanning across numerous topics, from suburbia to unrequited love and dysfunctional family life, washes over the reader like ocean waves, tying in cohesively with the glittering and ethereal brand of 'psychedelic jangle rock' the album has been brushed with. Single, 'Ode To Viceroy', quite plainly a tribute to the singer's favourite brand of cigarettes, inaugurates with a rich, lavish and striking psychedelic riff, leading into a smoky and beguiling delivery of 'viceroy, early in the morning' with ease and fluidity. Similarly, 'My Kind Of Woman' manages to elicit the same allure with its often affectionate, lovelorn lyrics, 'oh baby, oh man, you're making me crazy, really driving me mad.' Implementing the same drawn out, slow-burning riffs to accompany DeMarco's mellow delivery, the simplicity of the track, along with the majority of others throughout the record, works perfectly in leaving the listener with a yearning for more and more. And more does DeMarco give.
'I write for myself; I'm trying to keep myself interested in the music. But at the same time, I want to make the songs relatable, in a way; I want to keep melodies pretty simple and the lyrics open-ended so that people could maybe relate them to their own life in different ways. Something for everybody to have a piece of.'
'Dreamin'', in true homage to its title, offers a pensive and introspective feel, punctuated with the harsh but welcome clang of the guitar and funk-esque back beat. 'Freaking Out The Neighbourhood', allegedly an apology on DeMarco's part, to his mother, upholds the album's soft, sugar-coated, heartfelt tone with relative ease, inducing a dream-like state among listeners and structurally accentuating DeMarco's dexterity on guitar, interweaving the track with twinkling guitar hooks and maintaining the rise and fall of its varying tempo. Notably, the album has faced criticism for its 'unvarying tone', which can be attributed to the similarity of its eleven tracks to a certain extent, I feel, but their individual promise most definitely cannot be disputed.
I hate to use the word 'revival', as psychedelia as a concept and as a driving force has always been present within music, to varying levels of discernability, since its inception in the heyday of The Beatles and Pink Floyd to name but a few glaring examples. However, DeMarco is unequivocally part of the new wave of authentically psychedelic artists gracing modern music, perhaps most notably in the form of Australian-based psychedelic rockers, Tame Impala, whose sophomore album, 'Lonerism', was allotted as NME's Album of the Year for 2012. Breaking away from the psychedelic mould as it were, DeMarco more noticeably encapsulates the idea of disaffected youth, with a paradoxically fractious, yet placid vibe to his distinctive sound. Carelessness and frivolity are clearly integral to the singer's unceremonious and offhand attitude, with this even transcending his live shows, during which he is often said to engage in 'off-colour jokes' and acts of nudity with the audience. And so far, so good. DeMarco: 'I don't want a job, and I think I've been trying my hardest to make sure I don't have a job.' Unpredictable live shows, lyrical and instrumental prowess aplenty and a youthful, nonsensical flightiness about him, who knows where DeMarco's modest musical beginnings could lead?
Ode To Viceroy - Mac DeMarco
Dreamin' - Mac DeMarco
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