It’s Saturday, you wake up late, and begin to cook breakfast around noon. The sun pours in through the windows. You open one window just a bit to let some fresh air into the place. And … what the shit? Is that actually what bluejays sound like or is someone continually cunt punching a team of baby squirrels? Magpies? What’s wrong with you magpies? Who hurt you? Did someone make you swallow a kazoo then karate kick you in the throat? You sound broken. Fuck you, nature! I thought you were supposed to be tranquil and shit!

After shutting the window, you take a breath, and chose an album for the day. You throw on “This Old Dog” from Mac Demarco. You forgive him for being born in Duncan, BC, because making it as an artist after being raised in Edmonton means some shit. The music is mellow, it’s chill. His voice sounds like if Lennon and Damon Albarn had a genetic lovechild. The music sounds is like a Casio keyboard making sweet, sweet, love to the Marvin Gaye’s “Midnight Love”, with some chill acoustic Beck getting lubed up in the corner to come join in on the party. The drums and bass are basically one instrument throughout the entire album. You make breakfast, eat it. The day is nice.

You sit on your favourite chair. Oh ya, that one. Comfy right? And as you settle in you smile a little at just how light and silly the album is. When you hear the lyrics on the first song “My Old Man” the smile leaves your face. “Look in the mirror. Who do you see?” … “he can’t be me, look how old and cold and tired and lonely he’s become”… “There’s a price tag hanging off of having all that fun.” The chorus hops in and stings ya with, “Oh no, looks like I’m seeing more of my old man in me.” Fuck you, Demarco! I thought you were supposed to be all indie and silly and stupid and shit. What are you doing? 

The album goes on, it goes into heartbreak and struggle. It’s more honest than all the other DeMarco albums you’ve heard. It sounds like it’s the first time he’s being honest with you … fuck, maybe it’s the first time he’s being honest with himself. You realize the theme of the album is an old dog. DeMarco keeps comparing himself with one and, as we all know, “an old dog can’t learn new tricks”. He talks about this heartbreak, how he’ll never get over this girl, because “old dogs can’t learn new tricks”. 

The album finishes with a song on which DeMarco debates on whether or not he’s going to call his absent father. A lyric repeats, “watching him fade away” over and over again. You realize he’s talking about his father as well as himself. Your face is wet, at some point you started crying. Someone walks into the room and laughs at just how silly and indie and stupid the album sounds. They ask why you’re crying. You shut the album off and punch that person in the face. Their nose is bleeding a lot. You didn’t mean to hit them that hard but they were being a dick. You open the window and throw the album directly at those fucking magpies and bluejays. They all sit on their favourite chairs, put the album on, and laugh at how stupid and silly the album sounds. You walk away smiling.