Yesterday, a friend and I made our merry way down to Tulane University in New Orleans for an afternoon of music sponsored by TUCP to see the slacker prince of indie music.
It's barely surprising that DeMarco was asked to play at the university, as he's recently garnered a lot of attention from his latest album, Salad Days and a fair amount of coverage from numerous music media outlets, even landing Pitchfork's cover story prior to the release of said album.
Arriving 30 minutes early, we were able to snag some coveted spots up against the guard rail and listened to DeMarco and co.'s sound check. After all levels were set, DeMarco went behind the stage where fans started to crowd around.
For the duration of the opening band's set (New Orleans-based duo, Caddywhompus) he met with people and posed for pictures. He knelt down, arm wrestled, waved, and received kisses on the cheek from strangers, all in the name of iPhone pics that have no doubt already made their way to Instagram. (Seriously, just go check out how may people hashtagged "#macdemarco" in New Orleans tonight - it's a lot.)
He was good natured, waving and talking to anyone who approached him. I chose to keep my spot up front and wait for him to make his way to the stage. This later benefited me, when DeMarco took his place behind the center microphone, and announced he had a problem with the guard rails. He encouraged everyone to jump them and get comfortable closer to the stage. It took me all of half a second to scoop up my purse, practically launch myself over the rail, and run forward.
But enough about me (for now).
Onstage, DeMarco was as friendly with the crowd as he'd been to the many who had approached him pre-show. Taking fan requests, chatting with the peanut gallery between songs, and generally keeping communication flowing throughout the performance proved he was comfortable on stage and that all that's been written about his goofballish nature is completely true.
When he wasn't making faces and dispensing useless advice, ("You can listen to the next song, but you don't have to. If you don't want to listen, you can just dance. But you don't have to do that either."), he was pretty much nailing the performance like a seasoned professional who still has the heart of a kid playing basement shows. The set flowed effortlessly. DeMarco has a way of combining his upbeat energy with his generally chill songs to create an environment of good vibes.
As my friend put it, "[The music] held you, but didn't hold onto you."
The set included songs from his latest album, Salad Days, as well as songs from 2, and "I'm a Man" off of Rock and Roll Night Club. He was visibly excited as the crowd sang along to every song, and recounted the last time he played New Orleans to a meager crowd of about 5 people.
Way more than 5 people showed up for this show, and had every single person asked for an autograph, picture, or handshake, I'm convinced DeMarco would have obliged. Given his slacker reputation, I was surprised at all of the effort he put into making sure everyone was addressed and given attention. He was invited to parties and bars while accepting sips of beer from fans as he signed his name on everything from drivers' licenses to condoms.
Even slackers like to party, I guess.
But I can't accept that DeMarco actually deserves the persona that precedes him. Despite the lovable goofus that appears in pictures and interviews, his songs are proof of the dedication to his craft, especially apparent on his latest album and in concert. He's admitted that his newest batch of songs are the most personal he's ever written, and personally, I think his songs sound better with a little meaning to them.
Nearing the end of his time on stage, DeMarco removed his cap and approached the ledge that separated his feet from the heads of hundreds of us, eyes skyward in anticipation.
"Permission to surf?" he asked, cracking his infamous gap-toothed grin. His question was, of course, met with a roar of approval and he dove into the crowd, making his round before arriving back on stage, Pabst in hand.
He bid us adieu shortly after his return to the stage, but we cried for one last song.
DeMarco didn't disappoint when he broke into "She Rides a Harley Davidson" by Neil Young, a fellow Canadian he informed us. He commanded everyone - as a sign of respect - to "kneel for Neil." The show ended with everyone belting what lyrics they knew, wishing our wacky prince could stay longer.
(a short video with poor sound quality that shows us all springing up from "kneeling for Neil")
Fortunately, he did hang out a bit longer, at least long enough for me to capture a little bit of his affable charm in a picture to #latergram that night.
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