Mac DeMarco — Not Quite Something But Still

Started from the bottom

Somehow I was wondering how to make something useful out of this article. I tried very hard grasping an angle from which I could start writing and launching all different kinds of great ideas. Trust me I even listened to the songs of this guy Mac DeMarco — a lost technique being also known as the «old way» or as some would call it «journalism». Quickly after setting my mind back right I began putting down on paper whatever the songs made me think of. Reason being defeated and talent nonexistent I had to let my imagination go. And boy, did it went.

Please listen to this amazing song “Ode to Viceroy”

Me, DeMarco & I

To be clear I also believe the state of mind is really the way you listen. To me a song is a feel. An amazing one worth all the eternity of the instant. Sadly enough, to you this feel is about to become a nightmare of a reading. Yet don’t despair, because today is your lucky day, as Mac DeMarco just released his long awaited second LP Salad Days and is metaphorically opening his cigarette-smelling arms to welcome you into a shameless musical hug. While pressed against his anti-folk, non-pop, “jizz jazz” chest, you might wanna think of Bradford Cox, Adam Green, Mercury Rev, Destroyer, The Kinks and the gloomy strange ambiance of a rusty love sitcom. That should prove itchy.

Drugs don’t work

So here’s the «poem» I wrote, struggling with ears and pen along with Mac DeMarco. It could be a never-written song taken as a joke, I don’t mind. Because Mac taught me to relax and enjoy the way it feels. I hope you will do the same.

Mac, oh mac, what have you done to me ?

A groovy bassline

Some catchy melody

A youthful grin and a line.

The blues inside the tune

Waves at my lonely soul,

Sets my heart at noon,

Reminds us the Cool.

But the guitar

Knocking my brains out, making me feel good,

Never drifting far,

Keeps breaking out.

Keep hurling please baby

Pick on me gently

The vibration of chords is a chorus of swords

Never ends, sometimes stops.

Oh why such a complaint

Above the smoke I see

Your rusty voice calling on me

The rain of the saints

Is beating and pounding !

Like an old movie,

Dusty but free.

You can find Mac DeMarco on his label Captured Tracks, his Brooklyn flat, on tour (May 16 in Paris) and usually smoking a cigarette.