Mac DeMarco has aged. The Canadian singer-songwriter and prince of slacker-rock – once famed for downing bottles of tequila onstage and never knowingly seen without a cigarette in hand – stands before his London crowd a sober man. He looks good on it for 35, lean even, bounding across the stage with the energy of a caged animal, making laid-back synth tracks seem like bangers.
He’s at the Apollo in service of his latest album Guitar, and whilst DeMarco may have aged, his crowd certainly hasn’t. His music clearly still cuts to the heart of the teenage soul, judging by the number of young faces in the crowd, with tunes like ‘Chamber Of Reflection’ and ‘My Kind Of Woman’ having transcended the generation gap.
Mac’s output these days is a far call from that brand of indie anthem, with skeletal drum machines and keys, and a strange David Byrne-esque croon, and DeMarco seems acutely aware of this. Taking to the stage, he reassures the crowd: “We’ll play some songs, some will be fast, some will be slow, we’ll play as many as we can, make yourselves comfortable”.
He needn’t have worried: the moment he and the band launch into ‘For The First Time’, the crowd are in the palm of his hand, an energy that doesn’t abate for all 27 songs tonight. With such a weighty setlist, DeMarco keeps up a rattling pace; he stops for moments here and there to dispense some of his trademark non sequiturs, but largely maintains a heady flow of hits amongst the deeper cuts.
It’s interesting how the stoner funk of Demarco’s later material translates live – taking on a jam band feel, the slap bass making quite strange ballads feel almost dub reggae-esque. Notable too is the breadth of his back catalogue; he might be known for ballads and tongue-in-cheek indie, but the range on display is deeply impressive, with the descent into drone guitars on ‘Moonlight On The River’ a particular high point.
It really is fascinating to see how an artist whose work felt very of its time, emblematic of 2010s indie, translates almost a decade on. It’s clear that so many of these songs are now woven into his audience’s lives, not to mention having been discovered by a whole new audience over again.
Mac’s screwball humour feels even more gratifying now that he’s no longer living a life so close to the edge too – sort of like a Canadian Bob Mortimer, thoroughly aware that the best way to enjoy life is to gently rib it. Take the moment when he invites to the stage Italian popstar Ryan Paris (an 80s one hit wonder with ‘Dolce Vita’); both DeMarco and Paris seem bemused by the situation, but it also seems underscored by a sincere appreciation for one another.
The gig ends with DeMarco, Paris, and all of the support bands and stage crew dancing onstage to Dolce Vita, a truly fever dream image. The crowd are rapturous, caught up in the sheer bizarre joy of it all, DeMarco grinning as he dances topless with Paris. Mac DeMarco is a purveyor of unadulterated glee, and that’s a rare thing at the moment – it seems there’s still a very dear place for him in the heart of teen indie fans for years to come.
featured image: Matt Wellham @mattwellham
