As is the case with many twentysomethings in America, the soundtrack to my formative years is stamped heavily with the fingerprints of John Mayer. From the time I was 17, I’ve listened as Mayer the artist has collected seven Grammy Awards for his work, including two for his outstanding 2006 effort,
Continuum. Also in that time, I’ve witnessed Mayer the celebrity go from a stone sober loner who avoided parties in lieu of playing guitar to the guy who used Jessica Simpson’s head as a resting place for a bottle of Jack Daniels; from the kid who, on his first major studio release
Room For Squares, expressed a keen desire to keep his mouth shut, to a NYC bar scene regular who on occasion likes to perform impromptu stand-up comedy routines and expounds curbside on his breakup with Jennifer Aniston. In the world of British bad boys Liam Gallagher and Robbie Williams, this sort of behavior earns you the title “rock star.” For American singer-songwriters best known for singing songs about “candy lips” and father-daughter relationships, this makes you a douche bag. As fans, we know this, and in spite of it we stand firm for the music.
With his latest album,
Battle Studies, John Mayer no longer wears the mask of a fresh-faced singer with an objective listening base. Dozens of critics, no doubt, will judge this album not on the songs themselves but by the relationships that inspired them. Fair enough. At 32 and a regular tabloid figure, Mayer has knowingly brought that upon himself. However, to approach the album from such a standpoint is to deprive both reader and reviewer of something much more interesting than page six fodder.
Much has been made of the transparency of Mayer’s approach to creating
Battle Studies. From a near constant influx of twitter updates to a series of introspective video diaries detailing the album’s recording,
Battle Studies the concept was as much a journey as it was an end product. At its best, the record reflects that openness. On the emotive “Edge of Desire,” Mayer sings about lust and longing with refreshing candor.
Elsewhere, the singer continues the themes of heartache and loss with the sublime “All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye.” Recalling the solo work of George Harrison, the tune is a triumph in genre songwriting. With its vocal layering, some interesting modulation in the song’s latter half, and a soaring slide guitar solo reminiscent of Coldplay’s Jonny Buckland, it’s balladry that somehow reaches new territory for Mayer.
Likewise, the breezy “Half Of My Heart” featuring Taylor Swift is equally deft in evoking pop’s cooler shades. This kind of mid-tempo toe-tapping tuneful music is what the adult Mayer does best, and if he and Swift were to record a full album of music together, I would buy that record in a heartbeat.
So what of the rest?
Battle Studies admittedly sags in its latter half. Tunes such as “Friends, Lovers, Or Nothing” and “War Of My Life” begin promisingly enough, but ultimately plod too far into adult contemporary middledom. The latter explores a life of fear with “nowhere to run” and an empty supply of uppers, but any of the song’s edge is rubbed off by its all too delicate production. It is, it seems, a song for Mayer – but for who else?
From there things pick up slightly with the aforementioned “Edge of Desire,” but are quickly brought to a halt again with the Radiohead-lite “Do You Know Me?” The song features an interesting staccato finger-picked guitar line, but at a pithy 2:30 and with little lyrical content to explore, it has the feel of an unfinished product.
In the end,
Battle Studies is, like its creator, a tricky entity to put one’s finger on. In places accentuated with the kind of brilliance we’ve come to expect from Mayer, the album also suffers in areas where the artist seemingly tried too hard. It’s also markedly different from Mayer’s previous work. Whereas
Continuum was a statement on universal themes from an artist who had just been given his membership card in credibility,
Battle Studies takes a more daring tact – it is the diary of a man who took the time to explore his own heart. And while one could argue that Mayer is trying to distract us by painting himself as an in-control bachelor who just wants to get stoned and plan imaginary trips to Japan, there’s no hiding the embarrassed hurt when he sings “I’m scared you’ll forget about me.”
Continuum may have been Mayer’s love letter to the blues and R & B, but this is
soul music.
It’s difficult to tell where
Battle Studies will stand in two of five or ten years as a piece of music, but as a study in the human condition it’s a revelatory success. A note to Harvey Levin and the rest of the tabloid writers who want a piece of Mayer’s heart: listen to the music. It’s what the rest of us have been doing all along.
Posts
