Mac DeMarco, “Guitar” hero, shares his latest record

Mac DeMarco has always been a guitar hero, and on his new record Guitar, he continues to be a hero, but this time in a more dialled-back, Bert Jansch-y way. Gone are the licks that once propelled him to indie fame (think “Ode to Viceroy”), this time replaced with a sparse and concise acoustic guitar-driven sound that comes across as his barest and most distilled statement yet.

Mac has always been an artist capable of doing more with less, while simultaneously maintaining a signature touch that is all his own. His last effort, 2023’s sprawling One Wayne G, stretched that ethos to its limits with nearly 200 tracks of sketches and fragments that saw him challenge the album format entirely. Guitar, on the other hand, feels like the counterbalance to One Wayne G: an intimate collection that strips everything down to only what’s necessary, without any messing about. Only the final song on the record even has an introduction (“Rooster”), all of the others jump right into it with Mac’s voice and guitar at the forefront.

Guitar is lean and direct, and must’ve felt great for him to put out into the universe, as he often comments in interviews about suffering from demo-itis. Guitar feels like the kind of record you would make when you’re done trying to prove anything, which feels appropriate for a character who’s been at it as long as Mac has.

“Shining” kicks the whole thing off gently (and this gentleness continues throughout the record), a lover’s lament caught in the haze of what sounds like a relationship having ended. The bass bounces, the arrangement is stripped down, and Mac sighs, “My love must be broken / what’s been going on / can’t stop my heart wandering / at least not for too long / and I wanted to want only you my girl / what more could I want?” It’s bare in a good way, almost naked, but still powerful and raw. It’s the highlight of the record.

“Sweeter,” drifts along like a João Gilberto daydream, as Mac slips into crooner mode, delicate and breezy, singing, “We could try things over / as if there wasn’t ever pain.” Later, he adds, “Heartbreak wasn’t my intention / let’s see how your love can bend.” Did he screw something up? Did he blow it with a lover? Whatever the case, it sounds like he’s circling around regret, and the track’s fragility makes it sting all the more.

“Phantom” continues that streak, with Mac confessing that “Your phantom sits with me / when I’m all alone.” By “Nightmare” the theme of lover’s regret is starting to wear itself somewhat thin, but the hook is undeniable—“Smoke the whole pack / there’s no turning back from this one.” If you’re looking for past-paced rockers, then you know by this point of the record that you aren’t getting any, but that’s fine; Guitar is sort of like one long song, the vibes of all of the tracks are very closely aligned.

The mood does begin to shift a bit on “Terror,” as Mac sounds resigned to his shortcomings, singing “I am but a wandering terror / this is all I’ll ever be” in a falsetto-laced troubadour-like manner. It’s got a bit of sleaze to it (NOT the indie kind, the Vegas showroom kind, aka the real kind in my humble opinion). Lovers of 2 and Salad Days are in for a treat on “Rock And Roll” with its flamenco-tinged, playful guitar bursts that are Mac at his best. It’s got a bit of a John Lennon Plastic Ono band feel to it, with Mac even tossing a “pick it” adlib that reminded me of John Lennon mumbling “cookie” on “Hold On,” Mac can’t resist cracking a joke in the middle of ripping up the 6-string.

The jokester persona is still there, buried a bit deeper than in the past, but still there. “Nothing at All” is deceptively jaunty, with a guitar line chasing his vocal melody before breaking away—it’s classic Mac, the kind of understated lead work he’s been doing since he stumbled onto the scene in the early 2010s. He’s always been able to make a few notes be enough to carry a tune.

“Punishment” seems like a mission statement for the record, as the lyrics reflect the vibe of Guitar as a whole, which is to say breaking everything down to the studs to find what really matters. “Take all my money / leave me my soul / burn down my house / I’m ready to go.” He sounds like he’s wrestling with fate and mortality now, not just love.

“Knockin,” rolls along in a trance-like state, with Mac confronting questions from his past that just won’t die: “Questions from your past that still need answering / knocking.” It’s circular, almost hypnotic. A short burst of a guitar line adds some spice and undertone that pushes the track forward over the acoustic chords.

Guitar is Mac cutting everything down to its essence: voice, guitar, and melody that hangs in the air like a seabreeze. It’s a record that shows yet again that Mac DeMarco is a craftsman who can make the simplest things sting the most. It’s Mac at his most unguarded, with nothing to hide behind but a voice and a 6-string, full of cheekiness and soul that lingers with you long after the last note plays.

Photos courtesy of Mac DeMarco