Mac DeMarco: This is the review of the Cowboy album

In 2015, Mac DeMarco lived in Far Rockaway, in the shadow of JFK Airport. He had not yet made it to the general public, but in the independent world in which he lived, he had become an icon of the slacker. He was hanging out with the Creator, Tyler, performing in front of legions of young people who saw something in him that they could identify with. The mini-album that he recorded at home in Rockaway, Anotherwas banal so nice. DeMarco described what he had become known for: syrupy songs about love, dazed and detached on mournful guitar games that sounded like he was going to fall asleep playing them. There was not much to do. But this was also the point of his career when it became undeniably clear that DeMarco was on the right track. At the end of the album, he delivered his speech and invited the listeners to spend time together. Many of them actually showed up.

Since then, DeMarco has moved to Los Angeles and released an unexpected and deeply deep album called This old dog, which helped him to consolidate his position as indie indie game leader. His new album closely follows the endearing and open spirit of all. This old dog. DeMarco says that he named the album Here is the cowboy because he liked to use the word "cowboy" as a nickname or term of tenderness, which, like many things in the Mac DeMarco universe, is half joking, half inadvertently. Here is the cowboy is an often pretty, sometimes frustrating record, which was recorded quickly, but still seems painstaking. His music evolves in inches: it iterates on the same sound but refines it subtly with each release. The lyrics become more direct. Ideas become simplified. The crispness of his first songs is largely gone here.

Here is the cowboy comes at a time when there are more looks on DeMarco than ever before. He is now famous enough for a cult of personality to have developed around him. He will always remain the awkward guy with the smile of Alfred E. Neuman, that he sings about his relationship with his father or that he writes oddly moving odes to the cigarette. DeMarco is accessible and has never been too serious, which means that there are two kinds of Mac DeMarcos: one for the man who drinks tallboys and the popular artist for a naive music that does not look tarnished by the unfortunate intruder of the real world.

The album contains really great moments: "Nobody" is beautiful, lush and laconic – a slow and exhausted version of the classic California stoner jam. Similarly, "All of Our Yesterdays" is a fluid update of the characteristic sound of Mac DeMarco: a sweet melancholy so deeply rooted in the piece that it takes a few headphones to notice. His music may have the same sound, but even in the world of DeMarco, time passes, life goes on and we all struggle against aging, difficulty and cynicism.

Frustrating, which should be attractive in the album – the light breeze and casual atmosphere, everything is good to fear – is also making it impossible to capture the essential of the songs. On "concerned," DeMarco seems literally concerned. You can practically hear him looking out the window while he sings half-formed thoughts to open your mind and fill it with bullshit. The best part is the singing of birds in the background: they give a texture to the strangely sterile world that DeMarco has built. The bare pieces like "K" are pretty good, but never really seem to go anywhere, mainly because they lack decay. Oh damn-ness of his best songs. You will realize that you want something a little more fun, or at least something more verve.

So, what to do with "Choo Choo"? The faded funk track contains a real train whistle reminiscent of the chorus in DeMarco's falsetto, you guessed it, "Choo Choo". Is this song a joke? Of course, probably. A song for children? There was better. DeMarco is a fan of Jonathan Richman, of Modern Lovers, who found the ideal compromise between humor and sadness. DeMarco can do it as well. On stage, he makes jokes and pranks. It is evident that he is largely trying to get to the heart of universal human ideas. "Choo Choo" is neither funny nor insightful. In another era, it would be a fanciful step on the way to the next song. Now, it sounds like a waste of time.

Here is the cowboy has no weird or heartbreaking details of 2, or the hermetic jams of Days of salad, or the refinement of This old dog. That sounds good, but for much of his performance, DeMarco seems exhausted, ready to go ahead and try something new, but he is trapped in a creative keeping scheme. He may be aware of it himself. In "Little Dogs March", he sings "hope you had fun … all these days are over.