Interview published in Issue 7, 2023

Mac DeMarco

Mac and I met in the spring of 2009. He was eighteen, and I twenty-one. I was working at a boutique clothing shop in South-East Vancouver, B.C. Next to it was a bakery I would often gointo and get lunch. At some point, Mac started working there. I loved going in and getting soup to go from him because he was extremely grumpy and morose and I found it a challenge to try and cheer him up. He would later reveal to me that he hated working there because the owner would frequently lick his finger and stick it in the batter to taste it (RIP Gunner).

Our relationship remained as next-door workers for some time, until seeing each other at an art show at the comic shop across the street from our workplaces. Mac was sitting in the backgarden outside on a fence with a mutual friend, so I went and said hello. From that moment on we began a budding and rather lunatic friendship. One of my favorite memories from that era was when we stole a 4 litre jug of baker’s rum from his bakery and commenced glugging it in the alleyway behind the places of our employment and slogging it back to my nearby apartment where it ended up serving as a refreshment for an inpromptu party later that night. Jacob puked in my garden and somehow lost one shoe.

At that point, Mac had a musical project called Makeout Videotape. He recorded his album Heat Wave in some shitty apartment in South Vancouver and doled out the tapes and CDs to our friends. The album is really good. Mac later moved to Montréal and I to Paris. Our friendship endured over the years as we both bopped around cities and countries, finding each other wherever our paths crossed. Fast forward fifteen-ish years to present day. Mac has achieved an illustrious musical career, releasing at least seven albums and producing or appearing oncountless other tracks.

I like Mac’s music, but I love him. He’s the funniest person I know. He’s also incredibly intelligent, sensitive, and sweet - which are the things I tried to tap into with this interview, but am unsure of if I achieved. What follows is a relatively verbatim transcript of us recently chopping it up over the phone, he in Marseille, and I in Paris.

Text and interview by: Leah Gudmundson

Photographs by: Ezra Gray

Leah Gudmundson: How’s Marseille?

Mac DeMarco: It’s pimp.

LG: You like it?

MD: Yeah, it’s pimp. Everybody says it’s sketchy. What the fuck?

LG: It is sketchy. What areas have you been in? You’re probably in a nice area.

MD: We’re in the seventh.

LG: Yeah, that’s a nice area. Have you gone down to the old port? There’s that block I told you about that’s east of where you take the ferry. It’s all restaurants that are owned by the mafia and they’re all fronts. So it can be a little dodgy, but I’m sure you’re using your wits and it’s nice.

MD: It feels like a vacation with grandma and grandpa, no problems over here.

LG: But don’t you find it dirty?

MD: Yeah, but Paris is fucking dirty too.

LG: No it’s not.

MD: Paris is filthy!

LG: But there’s beautiful architecture in Paris. Marseille is all run down.

MD: Yeah, but the water’s right there. It’s amazing. I like it.

LG: Okay, whatever. I have 7 or 8 questions for you.

MD: Perfecto.

LG: Number one, do you believe we live in a multiverse? If so, what do you think some of your spectral entities are up to?

MD: Spectral entities, what’s that? If I’m Tom Holland, then my spectral entity is Toby Maguire?

LG: No, a multiverse is like…

MD: Spiderman.

LG: No, it’s a hypothetical idea that includes the entirety of all universes, the entirety of everything. So basically, if you believe in a multiverse, it’s like there are a gazillion, maybe an infinite amount of versions of you that differ with each action you take. So if you didn’t answer this phone call, you would have gone off and done something different, and the version of that Mac leads a different life. Every single one of those ‘you’s’ actually exists in different universes.

MD: A whole different path. Okay, so it is similar to the Marvel multiverse. Do I believe that? Oh, Jesus Christ. I’m going to say maybe. But I think that the idea of sitting around and thinking like, Wow, if this butterfly had...

LG: It’s less butterfly effect and more like... Do you believe that there are infinite versions of yourself?

MD: Like is there a version of me that just is laying brick somewhere in another thread? Yeah, there probably is. But I mean, fuck, I don’t know. It’s weird to think about because when you start thinking about it, you think, am I in the best thread? Maybe I’m not. Or maybe I was in a dope thread for a while, and then it splintered off. It’s a waste of time to think about. I’m in my thread. I’m just trying to fucking enjoy my goddamn thread.

I will say this, though. That Spiderman movie that we’re talking about, that is about this shit? That movie’s fucking sick.

LG: I don’t watch Marvel stuff.

MD: There’s Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield’s in there, Tobey Maguire’s in there, everybody’s in there. All their fucking things come together!

LG: Does the main guy change into a different person? Or he’s still the same and he just has different powers?

MD: He meets the other version. That’s what happens. Yeah, it’s fucking amazing.

LG: All right, moving on. What is your favorite Shakespeare piece and can you recite any of it off the top of your head?

MD: I probably only know the big speech from Hamlet.

LG: Give me what you’ve got.

MD: To be or not to be, which is nobler in mind, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To die, to sleep, something about a wave, getting washed up. I used to know it. I like Hamlet. My daddy issues guy.

LG: Speaking of daddy issues.. now that your dad has passed on, how do you think his absence in your life affected you, and now in dealing with his death?

MD: I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. The child part, I mean, you know me. He’s responsible for that in a way. There are days when you really think that things like that will change the way you are. Then there are days when I’m like, Oh, for God’s sake, fucking grow a pair. So, I mean, it really depends. The death part, I don’t know. I didn’t really know that person. The thing I think is interesting for me, is trying to grapple with the fact that I was supposed to know that person.

This is the same thing as the multiverse shit. It’s like, where would I be if I had been in a thread where there was a parental [father] figure out there? It’s hard to say. But like I said, I’m trying to remain in the moment at hand.

LG: I understand. But sometimes I think that people who either had dead parents early on in life - or one dead parent, or a distant dad or whatever - I think maybe they can be a little bit more wild, or fearless in a way. With their art or how they live their life. Because they don’t have to be a ‘good’ kid or they don’t have to... I don’t know. There’s one less person you have to make proud.

MD: I agree with that in a way. I sometimes thought, I could rekindle this, or I could fix this, or I could do this, or maybe if I do this he’ll like this thing that I do. If I write this song.. Now it’s like, well, none of that’s there anymore. And where I left it is where I left it. Just coming to terms with that is weird as well. Even the complex of being like, well, maybe some of my art or some of the things that I do are in response to this person or to try and wave a flag to this person. It’s a weird thing. I think that even part of my alcoholism was like, I have to become a more athletic, more powerful drinker than my alcoholic father. It all ties back in.

LG: Yeah for sure. On the opposite end of being wild, what activities bring you peace or tranquility?

MD: Riding a motorcycle. That’s the main one. I’ve also been doing a lot of walking and hiking which has been nice. But the motorcycle is definitely the best. Here’s the reason why: not only is it beautiful, exhilarating and fast and fun, but you have to be focused the whole time. When you’re driving a car, you can zone out, fall asleep, run off the road, whatever you want. You can’t really do that on a bike because your whole body is being used. Even when you’re doing something like exercising, your mind can still go all over the place. When I ride a motorcycle it’s almost like forcing meditation. You don’t have space in your mind to focus on shit except for riding. Maybe I’ll get better at motorcycling and maybe that will change. But for now, it’s tight.

LG: Yeah, you really have to pay attention if you want to live. Next in line, who is your favorite comedian of all time and why?

MD: I’m going to go with Norm McDonald.

LG: Ooooh, good one.

MD: Number one reason - Canadian. Number two, he’s very funny. Number three, he’s from the right era. You can’t really fuck with him. He’s always been spicy. I mean, he’s gone now, rest is his soul. He was just the best. His crew was the best. He was associated with the SNL peeps. He was on Conan O’Brien, The Simpsons.

Oh, you know what? I’ll actually say it’s a tie between Norm and Don Rickles. I love Don Rickles.

LG: Don Rickles?

MD: I love Don Rickles. He was Frank Sinatra’s best friend. He invented the ‘roast’. He was an insult comic. He’s amazing.

LG: Hmm I don’t know him. I’m gonna look him up. Okay, my last question, I think. What fills you with whimsy and wonder?

MD: Whimsy and wonder? I think I would say motorcycling again. I do like it, and it makes me feel like a little boy. But otherwise, I’ll say - it’s interesting because I’ve been thinking about that on this trip. I’ve been on this trip for a long time. It’s been more than a fucking month in Europe. I’ve been in France forever. There’s a feeling that you look for. I’m very bad at going on vacation. I don’t know how to relax. That’s why I keep talking about trying to observe and enjoy the moment. I’m very bad at this shit. But there are places where it’s easier for me to do that than others. I’ve been looking for it over here.

We went to some beautiful beaches in Normandy. That was nice. Being in Marseille is very nice. I like the water. I think it’s a mixture of all of these things, mostly nature things like trees and water. But I would say it’s the Pacific Northwest - big trees, and a wetter, cold climate.

LG: So, nature.

MD: Nature, but it’s a specific nature, because L.A., that nature, it’s fine. Does it fill me with whimsy and wonder? No. There’s another thing about Europe, too. I enjoy Europe, everything’s super fucking old. I don’t really give a fuck about old shit. I can appreciate it, but nature - it renews itself. You see a super old tree, there’s still something super fresh about a super old tree. The Notre Dame? Not exactly fresh. I like ancient freshness. It’s mysterious. It makes me feel like there’s something that I need to uncover about it. Whimsy, wonder. You feel it right there with a nice breath of fresh air. It feels good.

LG: Clean air.

MD: Yeah, exactly.

LG: Architecture doesn’t bring you a little twinkle in your soul?

MD: Some of it does, I think. But we were in Péré Lachaise looking at all these big old graves and at those walls of the tombstones where they put them in the wall and there’s a nice picture or whatever? When I die, just plant a tree. Turn me into ash, fertilize something. Humans are so fucking they’re... We’re so fucking... We’re so greedy. Even after you’re dead. We’re looking at tombstones from fucking three, four hundred years ago. It’s like, give me a break. Give it back. Just give it back. Let the cycle happen.

LG: They’re taking up too much space?

MD: Too much space. It’s unbelievable. It’s fucking crazy. Can you imagine if in your family you have a relative from seven hundred years ago, and you still have to pay the rent on their fucking plot at Péré Lachaise?

LG: Don’t they buy a plot outright?

MD: Well, I don’t know how Péré Lachaise works, but in most graveyards, you have to pay to keep your seat. It’s insane. Just let it go.

LG: Agreed. Okay, I’ll ask you one more question, which I actually don’t know about you. Do you read?

MD: Every once in a blue moon, I’ll read a novel. But I’m pretty much just an internet article, Wikipedia-style guy. It’s one of those things where someone’s like Oh, you should get a book. That’d help. When we sit on the beach, you’ll have a book to read. I don’t know how to just sit down. It ties into the whole I’m very bad at relaxing thing.

LG: People who don’t read freak me out. I don’t think you can trust them properly. There’s something wrong with you people.

MD: I think I’m just stupid.

LG: You’re definitely not stupid. But can you remember what the last novel you read was?

MD: I listened to Siddhartha on audiobook. I don’t know if that counts.

LG: It doesn’t. Physical novel - on paper.

MD: Then the last thing I think I read was Bret Easton Ellis’ new book. There are a couple of authors who, if they put something new out, I’ll pick up. It’s like if an artist I like puts out a new album, I’ll listen to it. But even that, it’s hard for me to do that sometimes.

LG: Maybe you’re oversaturated with music.

MD: But reading.. when would I find the time? People say, read on the plane. I’m busy being terrified of crashing on the plane for eight hours. I can’t fucking read a book. Yeah, I’m a plebian. I’m working class. I’m a working-class plebian who doesn’t really read and makes music for plumbers. And that’s how it is. Perhaps in another universe, I’m a scholar.

LG: For sure. Ok - that’s it. I’m out of questions. Sorry if they were dumb, I didn’t really know what to ask you.

MD: Yeah, I was wondering what you were gonna ask. You did a good job. Not too shabby.

LG: Thanks. Ok talk to you later.

MD: Peace.

Mac and his band performing at Caberet Sauvage in Paris, 2023. From left to right: Daryl Jones, Pedro Martins, Mac DeMarco, Alec Meen