“Hopefully make some sense of all this shit before you die,”
laid-back wiseacre Mac DeMarco advises, like a cross between Bob Dylan and
Stephen Malkmus. His third LP ranges from the cheese-synth balladry of “For
the First Time” to bedroom-guitar poesy like the forlorn fragment “Sister.”
DeMarco’s weed-y lazy-day croon can be a little too tongue-in-cheek. He’s best
when he’s more earnest, both lyrically and melodically, as on “My Old Man,”
a sweet shoulder shrug toward the harsh reality of turning into your dad.