Mac DeMarco is a quintessential hipster hero; an unemployed visual artist who turned to paving roads for cash whilst struggling to get his music career off the ground. His sophomore album, Salad Days, is a polished tale of growing old (sort of), as the midday traffic blows by from the vantage point of your all too familiar bar stool.
DeMarco’s poignant slack is a clever guise for a young man with a Stephen Malkmus flair for tongue-in-cheek songwriting. Salad Days is meant for summer sun; those moments in late July where everything seems to blend into one continuous cycle of heated highs and lows. “Brother” and “Goodbye Weekend” are made for stooping with brown bags, while “Passing Out Pieces” sounds like a study in St. Pepper-era haze.
Salad Days plays like a collective, much needed deep breath. DeMarco has masterfully managed to capture the sound of rambling on, while never really letting us in.