Mac DeMarco – ‘Salad Days’

Review by Steve Marck

Contemporary music that can bind pastimes to memory is somewhat hard to come by. That dreamy look that cloaks the rock & roll era and all it’s well-touted experiences seems too intangible to similarly fasten sounds to people and places now, but there will always be albums that capture something; the infinitesimal perceptions that remain for years, tying an entire person to a song that can come swinging back to mind with the supple weight of a melody. Salad Days has Mac DeMarco supplying every earthly beat needed to encapsulate the convictions of youth for ages– every sunrise after an all-nighter that has ever needed a soundtrack for the long walk home; every first date’s tension that’s melted in a smile. With a precociously warbling tone wrapped around the steady chords of Let Her Go, or the portly keyboards on Passing out Pieces firmly holding a beat down, DeMarco puts an arm around your shoulder as an older sibling that’s been there. He’s seen with all senses of certainty that there are enduringly beautiful things in the world worth preserving, and he’ll do his damndest to prove it to you.