Actual Bubblegum Pop by Marc With A C: A Lo-Fi Smack in the Face
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—Marc With A C didn’t come here to play nice. His 2012 self-released album Actual Bubblegum Pop is like that weird cousin who shows up uninvited but somehow steals the party. It’s raw, messy, and dripping with attitude. You can slap “Rock” and “Pop” labels on it all day, but this ain’t your polished radio hit. Nope. This is lo-fi indie pop with grit, guts, and a middle finger to convention.
First off, shoutout to Marc Sirdoreus (aka Marc With A C), because he straight-up DID THIS HIMSELF. No big label backing, no overproduced nonsense—just him doing his thing. And honestly? That makes it hit harder. Tracks like Juicy Fruit and Doublemint stick in your brain like gum under a desk. Let me break it down for ya:
Juicy Fruit kicks things off with this swagger that feels both nostalgic and kinda dangerous. The melody bounces around like it doesn’t care what you think, and Marc’s vocals have this lazy confidence that sneaks up on you. By the time the chorus hits, you’re hooked—it’s catchy as hell but rough around the edges, like listening to someone doodle masterpieces on a napkin. I mean, damn, how does something so simple feel so electric?
Then there’s Doublemint. Oh man, this track is where the album starts throwing punches. It’s got this driving beat that feels like it could soundtrack a low-budget teen movie montage—if that movie was directed by someone with zero chill. The lyrics are sharp, funny, and just self-aware enough to keep you guessing. Every listen feels like catching inside jokes you didn’t know existed. Plus, the way Marc layers those fuzzy guitar riffs? Chef’s kiss. It’s chaotic in the best possible way.
The rest of the album keeps the energy cranked, though tracks like Big Red lean more into experimental territory. Some songs work better than others, sure, but even the weaker moments feel intentional—like Marc’s daring you to skip ahead. Spoiler alert: You won’t.
So yeah, Actual Bubblegum Pop isn’t perfect. But maybe that’s the point. In a world full of shiny, plastic music designed to sell sneakers, this album feels real. Like, REAL real. It’s not trying to impress anyone; it’s just being itself, warts and all. And honestly? That’s refreshing as hell.
Here’s the kicker, though: If bubblegum had a dark side, this would be its soundtrack. So next time you unwrap a piece of gum, remember—you might just be chewing on pure rebellion.
