Mac DeMarco's "Salad Days" is More of the Same

Consider your search for the perfect summer album officially over.  Clocking in at just over half an hour, Mac DeMarco’s third solo album, Salad Days, is best enjoyed while dozing off in the sand or laying on your bedroom floor seeking respite from those blazing UV rays.  DeMarco’s signature slacker rock sound is back.  His vocals are relaxed to the point of sounding bored or half-asleep.  One can’t help but to picture the Canadian musician sitting slouched over in a studio, recording these breezy tunes between half-stoned flashes of his signature gap-toothed grin. 

The only disappointment to be found in Salad Days is its lack of evolution from DeMarco’s previous efforts.  A sound this similar to past releases would be expected from a sophomore album.  Artists often either remain fiercely loyal to the sound that initially garnered them attention or do a complete 180 in an attempt to prove their dynamism.  In this case, DeMarco sticks to the “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it” philosophy, despite having already passed the milestone in which he should have begun expanding his horizons.

These shortcomings in the sonic growth department, however, are more than made up for by the windows DeMarco gives his listeners into his soul.  “Let My Baby Stay” is a fleeting moment of vulnerability in which DeMarco laments his years as an addict and the feeling of the one he loves slipping away.   Just as quickly as this tenderness reveals itself, the album slips back into DeMarco’s characteristic vaguely off-key vocals, distorted guitars, and sense of being delivered from outer space.

Those looking for a gentle, twangy, if not slightly repetitive, update to their iPod will be very pleased by Salad Days.  Those seeking an album that will inspire that special bond found only when an artist’s most personal words go directly from their vocal chords to the listener’s heart should look elsewhere.