The album consists almost entirely of acoustic guitar, synthesizer, and drum machine, DeMarco’s singing consistently gruff. It’s certainly that, but what stands out is both the way he tells his story–with a realistic mix of hope and fatalism–and the music he chooses to soundtrack it. Much of the pre-release hype surrounding This Old Dog has painted it as an introspective, borderline melancholy album in which DeMarco tells us about his family and personal life, most notably his absent, alcoholic, abusive father. (On opening track, “My Old Man,” he sighs, “There’s a price tag hanging off of having all that fun.”) What it certainly is is genuine. Is it an intentional move, perhaps straying from the fratty part of his fan base that increasingly seems to occupy his shows? Perhaps. On his new album This Old Dog, just as he’s continuing to skyrocket in popularity and further cement his legendary festival status, he’s looking back–and inward–even further. He’s just as much the goofball live performer who performs exaggerated covers of classic rock songs and crowd-surfs as he is the man occupying a chamber of reflection.
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