Mac DeMarco's gap-toothed grin is the greatest advertisement for his musicpersonifying both its childlike charm and mischievous essence. Born in 1990, DeMarco(né Vernor Winfield McBriare Smith lV) wasn't necessarily predestined to become indierock's reigning king of chill; he first came up in Vancouver's late-2000s DlY scenemaking a spirited, foot-stompin' racket with garage band Makeout Videotape. But afterrelocating to Montreal and signing with the Captured Tracks label as a solo artist in 2012he began to apply the pervading gauzy aesthetics of chilwave to traditional indie guitar-pop tropes, yielding a funhouse-mirrored version of the classic singer-songwriterarchetype. Seen from one angle, DeMarco is the consummate slacker, extolling thevirtues of morning cigarettes (2012's "Ode to Viceroy") and lazily watching the world goby (2014's "Salad Days") as he coasts atop a lattice of mercurial guitar jangle that servesas his swimming-pool floatie. But seen from another, he's a master craftsman and keenobservational writer-in the mold of his heroes John Lennon, Harry Nilsson and RandyNewman-who can deceptively coax profound sentiments from seemingly mundanescenarios, while his increased affinity for tastefully twangy guitar leads posits him as amillennial Mark Knopfler and certified dad-rock revivalist. As his star has risen,DeMarco's records have only turned more musically simple and emotionally complexwhether he's pondering his estranged relationship with his father on 2017's campfire-bossa-nova serenade "My Old Man", or diving deep into existential malaise via theamiable cowpoke amble of 2019's "Nobody", But his increasingly refined approach hasnot come at the expense of his relatability. As he said to Apple Music, "l think the DlYmentality is an important one, especially at my level, to put across. l'm overweight, l'mgoing bald, l brush my teeth only once a day, l can't really play my instrument. But look'm enjoying myself. You can do it too."