![]() ![]() This marks something of a shift for him there’s no sunny outlook, no wry humour cloaked in cynicism, just the space a lover left when she fell for someone else. The title track sees Demarco putting his guitar aside in favour of a mournful bit of synth noodling. At such an abbreviated length, Another One feels like some kind of sonic intermediary-showcasing the breezy, lo-fi approach that made 2 and Salad Days critical successes, while also offering a sample of what’s to come on future full-length releases. For the most part, this record doesn’t feel like a series of B-sides and leftovers, though it doesn’t make any grand strides forward. The song could quite easily have been an outtake from Salad Days, with DeMarco’s signature wavy guitar sound featured prominently. ![]() Album opener “The Way You’d Love Her” is a bittersweet account of a missed connection and a love-that-could-have-been: our charming protagonist has told her how he feels, “but never really got the chance to show her what it really means / to love her”. Lyrically speaking, the record is so simple it verges on aphoristic, though it seldom relies on clichés. Another One was reportedly recorded in his bedroom overlooking Jamaica Bay in the span of a single week, and each track is laden with a hazy air of contemplation. Both the man and the music are deeply relatable. ![]() This short announcement serves a dual purpose: it further cements DeMarco as a real-deal everyman and makes his home, the site that spawned the album’s meditations on love and heartache, accessible to everyone. ![]() He famously ends the record by offering listeners his address in Far Rockaway, New York (at the close of the aptly-named instrumental, “My House By The Water”) and inviting them over for a cup of coffee. His honesty is playful and plaintive in equal parts, and with Another One, his new eight-track mini LP, DeMarco puts his lovelorn heart on display as only he knows how. At this point, his character has received about as much attention from the press as his records have, (buzzwords like “prankster” and “slacker” abound), but is DeMarco’s offstage comportment truly at odds with the music he writes and performs? In a recent interview, he confessed: “I’m a terrible actor, but I’m good at playing me”. Surely there must be some posturing involved in maintaining such a consistently jovial and mischievous manner? On more than one occasion DeMarco has been painted as duplicitous as if Mac the man-the scruffy rogue with the charming grin-cannot be reconciled with Mac the Musician. ![]()
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