Confession: ever since I saw this gap-toothed, boy wonder throw a bag full of records out of a soccer mom-like, house of horrors vehicle in the alleyway at Honest Ed's to a throng full of skater kids, culty tweens and wankers of every age and origin, I felt attached. I'm not only attached to the music on Rock n' Roll Nightclub and 2 strewn about on the cracked pavement at my feet but to the man(child) sitting on the roof of his ride, his backstreet thrown.
But a year later we have Salad Days, a new dish served to his hungry masses. Mac wrote most of the record in what he calls the “meat wallet”, or in more colloquial terms, his matchbook sized Brooklyn apartment. After long bouts of touring fatigue, he used personal resources, namely his relationship with his partner and the road to usher in these 11-tracks that speak of love, life and reflection. It isn't a diary but it's way more internal than anything we've heard in the past. For example, “Chamber of Reflection” is a song that reflects this straight-forward self-imposed solitude. In it, Mac smoothly bellows, “alone again” throughout the chorus as droopy synths splash around in the background. Much of the record follows a divisive pattern of analysis that focuses on the good and bad of his unintended celebrity, unconventional relationship and identity under attack but the straight up lines that are drawn by the lyrics in “Passing Out The Pieces” and “Brother” shouldn't necessarily be the take away. He always seems to tickle out more light than dark and it's probably what keeps us listening more than we think it does.
It's also interesting to note how one of the most celebrated songs of Mac's odyssey is a piece he didn't want on the record in the first place. Yup, “Let Her Go” was included via command, albeit a non dictatorial one, from Captured Tracks in order to shop the record to various radio stations, late night shows and optimists alike. (PS It was a great move, the song's a perfect amalgamation of how Mac's craft works)
Either way you slice it, Salad Days might not totally deviate from the masterful 2 but it provides listeners with more than just a craving for a pack of Viceroys. The newfound introspectiveness of the album probably doesn't change the man behind it, but it means you won't be seeing anymore viral videos of Mac sticking drum sticks up his ass any time soon.
“Thanks for joining me, see you again soon, buh-bye” are the last words you here Mac mutter before the record player starts to skip but as I sit here in my meat wallet equivalent of a crappy apartment all I can say is “no, thank you.”
