So next time you’re at a thrift store or a used music shop, skip the beat-up Eagles records. Dig deep. Find that scratched-up Salad Days CD. Pop it in. Turn it up. And don’t worry about the neighbors; they probably like "Chamber of Reflection" anyway. Do you still collect CDs? Found a weird Mac DeMarco bootleg? Let me know in the comments below!

When you think of Mac DeMarco, what’s the first image that pops into your head? Is it a cheap pack of cigarettes rolled into his t-shirt sleeve? A beaten-up Stratocaster with more duct tape than paint? Or maybe the grainy, VHS-tinted glow of Another One ?

There is a specific joy that comes from sliding the Salad Days disc into a dashboard slot while driving down the highway at sunset. No notifications. No Spotify ads. Just the click of the disc spinning, followed by that synth swell on "Salad Days." It forces you to listen to the album as an album —from the goofy intro of "Goodbye Weekend" all the way to the melancholic echo of "Jonny's Odyssey." We all know the struggle. You walk into a record store, see the limited edition "Viceroy Yellow" vinyl of Here Comes the Cowboy , flip it over, and see a price tag of $34.99. You cry a little.

For most fans, the immediate answer is . Mac is the king of the "crate digger" aesthetic. His lo-fi warble sounds like it was pressed directly onto a thrift store LP in 1978. But today, I want to make a case for the underdog of the physical media world: The Mac DeMarco CD.

Here is why the plastic compact disc might actually be the definitive way to experience the world of the jangle-pop wizard. Let’s address the elephant in the room. Vinyl is romantic, but CDs are accurate. Mac’s early albums—specifically Rock and Roll Night Club and 2 —are recorded on a Fostex 4-track tape recorder. They are muddy. They are wobbly.