A balm for growing pains.

Mac DeMarco has made a comfy place for himself in the hearts of indie-lovers across generations. Both a staple at 2010s house parties and the star of briefly inescapable soundbites on TikTok, DeMarco has engaged diverse audiences with his jovial personality, tripped out-sound and relatable sad lyrics over more than a decade of success. On his most recent release, Guitar, DeMarco lays himself bare and offers an honest look at the man he has grown into.

Recorded over a period of about two weeks, everything about Guitar (minus its mastering) was done by DeMarco himself. It is, in his own words, “as close to a true representation of where [he’s] at in [his] life today as [he] can manage to put to paper.” Sonically, DeMarco forgoes his signature psychedelic tricks for simple guitar and drums. His reedy voice, which is unusually prominent on Guitar, and the lovely but uncomplicated melodies and beats might leave those expecting DeMarco’s trademark hazy, disorienting synths and drowned-out vocals confused, but they are certainly a better fit for the confessional, stripped-down nature of the album where vulnerability is paramount. Over the course of the 12 song project, DeMarco is lost and lamenting, and, despite speaking to his unique experiences, the demons he confronts are frighteningly familiar to any staring down middle age like DeMarco, or in general, experiencing the pains of growing up: self-loathing and resignation (“Curse, carried on forever in me / Curse, from which I may never be free”), fear of self-confrontation (“Questions from your past that still need answering…/ Freedom you’re too scared to execute…/ Knockin at your door, will you let them in?”), existential dread (“But how on earth is anyone to know? / If the lane you travel is all your own”), detachment from what was supposed to forever be familiar and dear (“No more walking those streets / That I once called my home / Because down every lane there are / Faces and names / That have memories attached /That I’d sooner let go / Sonner that I’d go home again”) amongst others. Though much of the subject matter is morose, DeMarco offers himself and those who relate the peace found in acceptance and a will to push forward to as he closes the album out: “Dimmer future / Things are looking kinda used up / Darling, I don’t mind / I’ll still rise up with the rooster.” It is bittersweet, but that’s the nature of aging, isn’t it?

On Guitar, DeMarco welcomes all into his current, revealing relatable fears over simple but engaging melodies, and delivers, from his own hurt, healing and maturity, a balm for growing pains.