Mac DeMarco’s personality is thoroughly enigmatic. He cites obscure funk artist Shuggie Otis as a primary influence on his garage-rock style, launches snot-rockets in public settings rather than using a tissue, and still plays on a mangled guitar he purchased in his teens for $30 (Canadian, that is). His music sounds like something you bought with pocket change at a neighborhood garage sale because the cover art looked remotely interesting. Mac DeMarco, in essence, is an idle afternoon spent effortlessly ripping through cigarettes and 16-ounce tall boys while reminiscing with your buddies about your first handjob in eighth grade.
The 23-year-old captured his overall lethargy on his label debut, 2, with downtempo jangly guitar tracks that explored a love-hate relationship with tobacco and ambiguous relationships with women having ordinary names. “Passing Out Pieces,” the first single from DeMarco’s next studio venture, Salad Days, is a slightly more sophisticated version of his lackadaisical nature. Pitting a dubbed harpsichord against an electronic brass section, “Passing Out Pieces” sounds as though DeMarco has given ’60s psychedelia a careful listen (or dropped twice as much acid). But its lyrical themes question his existence and a possibly tarnished reputation. “I’m passing out pieces of me, don’t you know nothing comes free?” he questions during the chorus. His intentions remain shrouded, but that’s what makes his carefree sensibility so appealing and genuinely enjoyable.