Mac DeMarcoJizz jazz troubadour Mac DeMarco returns with a borderline comatose fourth album, Here Comes The Cowboy. The bright moments on this album (and there are a few) feel like a victory lap for 2017’s excellent This Old Dog rather than fresh ideas, and the rest of the album is unfortunately too sluggish to compensate.
The 13 tracks lean so far into his cheerfully phlegmatic persona, his shtick can’t help but draw comparisons to Bernie, the grinning corpse from the titular film. Whether or not you’ll vibe with this McConaughey-like tone depends on the strength of your relationship with the man. It’s so all-encompassing it eclipses all questions of quality, shifting into the realm of pure caricature.
Choo Choo is sublimely ridiculous and damn catchy, its stoned, lightweight funk shuffling along, punctuated by a massive gong, brilliantly illuminating the retro vibe it's going for. In contrast, K is wonderfully sweet, existing on its own sheltered little atoll, protected from the rest of the album’s idiosyncrasies.
There’s a lot less warping and affectation going on in production, resulting in a cleaner sound, and DeMarco’s stretching himself vocally, resulting in his best late-night lounge singer impersonation yet. Finally Alone is the best example, with a beautiful (and strikingly un-DeMarco) little vocal hook scattered through it.
These flashes of inspiration are not enough to save the album from ultimately being his weakest collection yet; effortlessly charming, yet terminally lethargic.
