All right, let’s cut it with the “Mac DeMarco is a slacker” talk. Yes, like everything in his discography, there’s laid-back charm to his third full-length album, This Old Dog, but don’t mistake casual for lazy. With their tight constructions and melodic sophistication, DeMarco’s songs are works of craftsmanship; it takes a lot of effort to sound so effortless. Every slippery George Harrison lick or wobbly keyboard figure here is meticulously placed, arranged to achieve maximum breeze, this being the Canadian’s first proper “California record,” following a move to Los Angeles from Queens. Built mostly on drum-machine clicks, acoustic guitar and synth washes, the sounds here tend to blur together (likely by design), but DeMarco varies the palette with the harmonica-laden “A Wolf Who Wears Sheeps Clothes” and the R&B-flavored “On the Level,” excursions that solidify his grip on classicist pop-designs. But the album represents a step forward for DeMarco as a lyricist, having honed his shaggy-dog witticisms into wry, observational writing. “Honey, I cry too, you better believe it,” he sings on “Still Beating,” and remarking, “Often, a heart tends to change its mind” on “This Old Dog.” The best songs here find Mac examining age and inevitability. On opener “My Old Man,” he contemplates recognizing his father in his own reflection, and on the sparse “Sister,” he faces disappointment, crooning, “Turns out not every dog has its day” over a liquid guitar. DeMarco’s not defeated—not even on the somber album closer “Watching Him Fade Away”— he’s just taking his lumps. Slackers don’t care, and on This Old Dog, DeMarco cares a lot.