Talking To Mac Demarco

In lieu of a formal press release for his new album, Guitar, Mac Demarco wrote a letter to us.

In it, he described the process of making the album, which he wrote and recorded himself within a matter of a couple of weeks last Winter. He talked about how he made the videos and the photos for the album, and that he thinks, ‘Guitar is as close to a true representation of where Iʼm at in my life today as I can manage to put to paper. Iʼm happy to share this music and look forward to playing these songs as many places as Iʼm able.’

The album - like the music videos and art work, the lyrics and the photography - are very close to home. They sound like a guy whose singular pursuit is to make music, as though there could not have ever been a Mac that doesn’t sing falsetto to his guitar’s alto, and that the music videos and all the promo are just the cost of doing business. He lets them fall by the wayside, as he does much of the glitter of his previous work, but not for lack of caring, rather it simply isn’t needed. He doesn’t need a lot to make a music video that is good and watchable, and he doesn’t need a lot to make an album that is sincere.

All of which comes from a place of caring and authenticity - a compulsion to play, to tour, to engage, to show you, to be shown. I wish I had thought to ask more about that in the moment, but as you’ll see in the video above and the text below, we quite like talking about things other than the thing that a person is famous for, so there’s a bit of a meander. Nonetheless, Guitar is out this Friday, August 22nd, and it’s good. You should hear it.

Are you on a press junket?

Yeah, I think you may be the caboose of it though. You’re not Australian, are you?

Me? No, I’m not, I’m Hawaiian, but I edit an Australian magazine. Damn, press junket, I’m sorry.

No, no, no, I haven’t done it in years so my tank is full I’m good to go. 

I’ll try to ask some questions that aren’t boring. So who are some of your influences? 

…

The striking thing to me is how you wrote these songs in such a short period of time. Was that purposeful?

It was kind of circumstantial. I was in Canada helping my mom find a new place to live, we sorted that out and I came back to LA, and I knew that I had maybe two months before the house would close and she’d move in and I’d have to come back to Canada and help her renovate and stuff. It was kind of like, ‘okay, you’ve got this window, you’ve figured out where she’s going to go; all the ducks are in a row so you should make a record, it’s about time.’ The first month and a half we spent making this other record that I don’t think will ever see the light of day, we decided to start over and then luckily that is this record. It was quite lucky. 

Why do you not release records? Whole records won’t see the light of day?

I honestly- the thing was, I wrote a bunch of songs, they got to the demo phase. When I get to the point where it’s time to re-record, I get this thing I call ‘demoitis’, where I fall in love with the demo - there’s just some component of the demo and you’re trying to recreate it, it’s insane, you’re never going to get that same feeling again. I go down this road so often where I’m like, ‘I’ll re-record it and it’ll be great,’ but it just doesn’t… maybe if I listen back to those secondary recordings now, I’d think it’s great, but in the moment it’s just not right. 

And it’s public, you know, I’ve told people that this one didn’t get it. It’s like Prince or something, like, ‘oh, yeah that one evolved.’ 

Are you a big Prince guy?

I love Prince.

I wrote Prince fan mail for eight years. 

That is awesome. Did he write you back?

No, no, but I figure you write a guy a letter every month for eight years, someone must have told him. Do you write fan mail?

I’ve never written fan mail, actually. 

Do you receive fan mail?

Yeah, I get fan mail. I used to receive it in the mail back when I lived in New York and everyone had my address, but that was a long time ago. Sometimes it’s cool. There’s a certain point every year where I get invited to every teenager’s grad. They’re like, ‘please, come to my ceremony, it would be an honor,’ and I’m kind of like, ‘why?’ 

You and I have actually met a few times. I used to work at a venue in Honolulu called The Republik that you’ve played.

Oh, yeah! We played there twice. 

People will often play in Honolulu because they want to have a vacation in Honolulu, and they play the show to pay for that vacation. Do you do that much? Is touring a slog for you or are you all about it? 

Oh, that’s the whole thing for me. Honolulu was the last show we played before Covid, actually. With that, it’s really nice because it breaks up the flight a bit from Australia, you can hit it on the way back so it’s not as horrible. Any time I get an offer to play somewhere that’s kind of on the way and I've never been there before, of course I’m going to go. Growing up, I never really went on vacation, we didn’t travel or anything. Touring makes it difficult to really know a place. You don’t really see it, but at the same time, as opposed to doing the things that most tourists do, you get off an airplane and someone picks you up in a van- you have access to a different thing that’s kind of like, local people and promoters- you see it in a certain way.

Part of this album - I didn’t travel very far during Covid, just around the States - with this album, I wanted to go around again. What I realized was that traveling without touring is expensive. Now we can travel and I’ll get paid to do it again, which will be great. 

I am a fan of your music because you have a way of saying sad things wrapped in a very nice bow. Sad stuff, but good sweet melody.

It’s kind of bittersweet, yeah.

How do you think you’ve changed from since the release of your debut 2 some thirteen years ago?

I feel like in my early twenties - I was essentially the same guy but I think just more arrogant or something. Kind of like, ‘let’s rock!’ so maybe I’m just more feeble now. I don’t know. Sweet? This album feels a bit twisted, is how I’ve been describing it. Some of the lyrics are not of the most happy subject matter, but the melody can be kind of sweet sometimes. Even back on the record 2, that juxtaposition has always been interesting to me. I feel like I see it more in the inverse. Take someone like Brian Wilson, you listen to his music and the lyrics can be maybe more sunny, but the harmony can be this kind of scary churchy haunting thing, and it’s like, holy shit! I loved his music when I grew up, so maybe it’s kind of ingrained in me. 

Earlier today I was at a bar, and I thought about how strange it must be to hear that now. When did 2 come out?

Probably in 2012. 

Yeah, and now you’re playing in bars in Brooklyn. How do you feel about that journey of becoming sort of ‘contemporary’? Generally adored. You know what I mean?

This is a good way to put it. I remember when we were touring way back in the day, we got an offer to tour with that band Phoenix. And I didn’t really want to do it, I didn’t want to open, we never did any other support tours and I didn’t know their music that well, but everyone at the label was like, ‘DO IT.’ And luckily those guys turned out to be the sweetest guys of all time, and the shows were really fun and it was sick to see them play every night, but I remember the crowd, it was a different crowd. At that point, we would play to kind of the ‘cool’ kids in every city. It was the kids who read your 6.8 Pitchfork review - that scene. We would play for the noisy kids in the city or whatever. But with the Phoenix thing, all of a sudden there were these mall people. There were still cool people, but there were these people who were like, ‘I got you concert tickets, baby,’ and now I feel like I’m fully in the ‘I got you concert tickets, baby’ bracket now. 

People have come and gone, cool scenes, whatever. I’m sure there are still people from 2012, but there's a new set of people now. It makes no sense to me. Well, it’s not that it makes no sense to me, but I used to be tapped in a lot more, and I haven’t really toured in a long time. A lot of my awareness of people at the show was when I’d go to the alleyway and talk to people for a couple of hours and I’d kind of understand who was there. I mean, I would never wait out in an alleyway for a band to come out probably, but that’s just me, and I’m not saying those people are weird, but it’s a certain kind of person. 

That’s part of the beauty of this tour is I don’t really know who is going to show up. But that’s exciting, that’s interesting to me. I’m trying to approach this whole year and this album and this tour in a way that I would have in 2012. I just want to see what happens. We’ll rehearse, but I just want to let the songs do their thing. I don’t know how they’ll react to it, I didn’t really make it with anyone in mind. It could crash and burn, and that’s fine, too. 

I know you don’t have any particular intentions, but what would you like for them to take in from this album?

It’d be cool if people listened to it and kind of formed their own little world from it. For me, there are a lot of records that feel like their own little world that exists on it’s own, and that’s how I feel about this record. It just kind of works as a whole really nicely, and I like that. It’d be cool if people listen, if they don’t, that’s okay. With the touring, too, I want this scaleability. There are a couple of venues on this tour that are like fifty-person venues- that’s awesome.

I always tell this story about this maple syrup farm we stayed at in Ontario or Quebec somewhere years ago on tour with me, Amen Dunes and Juan Wauters’ whole crew - it was like fifteen musicians - and this girl was like, ‘yeah you can all stay!’ and it was a farm so they had a lot of room. In the morning they had made a shit load of pancakes and her dad was up in this shack like shredding a little practice amp and a stratocaster up in the trees and there were all of these tubes connected to all the trees. That’s what I want; I want to find my way back to the sugar shack.

Last question. Piece of advice, a key thing you’ve acquired for a musician starting out in their scene.

I mean, I haven’t been a local musician in a small scene since I was living in Montreal? It’s so different now. I don’t know how scenes operate now. It’s funny, in LA there are people trying to do DIY shows, and it’s cool. I don’t know, I’ve seen some instances where it’s not out of necessity but it’s like, ‘oh that looks cool.’ I think, just find likeminded people. In these small scenes, there’s always somebody who is like, ‘I’m going to ringleader this operation,’ and hopefully there’s someone like that, but if there’s not, consider taking up the position yourself. I don’t know. Enjoy yourself. The music industry is weird. Obviously you want people to listen to your music, and it’d be great if music could sustain your life financially, but I don’t know if being in the music industry- anybody who gets to the point where they’re in the industry, that’s kind of not… I don’t mean the interviews or whatever, it’s just… 

Well nothing is ever what you think it is, right?

No, it’s all fucked. It’s all fucked. Just, you know, here’s my advice: enjoy yourself. Play a lot. Write some songs. If any contracts come your way, make sure that you talk to a music attorney.