Does everyone else have artists they will see over and over forever, or is it just me? Sometimes, this is because I want to see what’s new in the artist’s/band’s set (as is the case with someone like Pink, who will change much of her songlist, set, costumes, etc, every time she hits the road). On the other hand, sometimes this is just because I’m such a fan of the artist’s voice, lyrics, and music that I’ll see them every single time I have an opportunity, regardless of whether or not things have much changed since the last time. Such was the case this week with John Mayer’s Solo tour, which arrived at Chase Center on Tuesday.
As if I didn’t already have a soft spot for Mr. Mayer, the fact that he was the first artist I got to see after the pandemic makes me appreciate him even more, as that was the kind of moment I doubt I’ll be forgetting any time soon. Not only that, but this time around he was joined by JP Saxe, whose music I was already familiar with, which is a huge bonus.
At 7:45 sharp, Saxe took the stage in a fabulously loud floral suit. He settled himself behind a piano painted with swirls of lots of bright colors and began his set with “When I Think of You.” While I was enjoying his musical abilities and the lovely tone of his voice, I noticed that he seemed to be very aware of the photographers in the pit trying to get good shots of him: more than once, I saw him look down, shift his body, or make eye contact. I’m sure he’s not the only artist who does this, but I don’t see it often. On behalf of all the concert photographers, I would like to say thank you, JP.
Before starting “Tension,” Saxe called himself a “dorky, vulnerable, ginger Canadian,” and I began to understand a bit more of his sweet, self-deprecating humor. He promised not to stay in a sad song mood for the entire set, however, and then came out from behind his piano to play “The Few Things” on acoustic guitar. While this was happening, another man scurried out from backstage to tinker with the piano. After he’d finished his song, Saxe explained that that had been his best friend, who he touted as the most eligible bachelor (“handsome, emotionally intelligent,” etc.), imploring single ladies who might be interested to hit up his Instagram to inquire further. I wondered briefly what it might be like to have someone sing your praises onstage in an arena, but then the moment passed, and I just enjoyed the rest of Saxe’s set. He truly was such a treat, as usually I’m quite impatient for the headliner to arrive. On this particular night, however, Saxe held my attention and then left me wanting more.
About an hour later, John Mayer arrived on the stage in the dark. He began “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” without much light, which I, as a spectator, thought was kind of cool and interesting. (The photographer in me was a bit more challenged to get a good shot, but such is life.) Finally, the lights came up on Mayer sitting on an office chair, acoustic guitar in hand. It’s not hard to see why this tour is called “Solo,” as Mayer was, indeed, alone on stage for the entirety of his set. I think it says a lot about an artist if they can hold the attention of an entire arena without so much as a backup singer or accompanist.
Later in the show, Mayer spoke to the crowd, explaining that since having vocal surgery, he “can only go this high,” demonstrating. At that moment, I wondered if it would alter his falsetto, which I think is one of the most recognizable aspects of his talent. After “Waiting on the Day” came “Neon,” which is always a great moment live.
“Should I spin the wheel?” Mayer asked as one of his videographers showed a woman near the front of the stage holding a homemade sign featuring a wheel with the names of many of his songs. She spun for him, and the pointer landed on “Comfortable,” which couldn’t have made me happier, as the song has long been one of my favorites and did not disappoint. A little later, during “In Your Atmosphere,” I noted that Mayer’s falsetto was indeed still quite alive and well, much to my relief.
At the piano, Mayer performed “You’re Gonna Live Forever in Me,” complete with a fantastic whistling part mid-song. Between songs, he sang a bit of Guns N’ Roses’ “Patience,” and I for one wouldn’t have minded a spontaneous cover of the entire song. Still, it was a lovely little moment, and he segued perfectly into “Changing.”
At one point, Mayer stopped to respond to another request from the crowd, though whether it was something he was reading on a sign or something someone had yelled out to him, I couldn’t quite tell. Either way, he smiled and politely declined, explaining that he had to play the show. (“I got a gig!”) After “3×5,” Mayer took a moment to talk about how he enjoys watching the faces of those in the crowd when he performs “Your Body is a Wonderland.” He talked of those who like it, those who don’t, those who stand there trying to look busy, and how he manages to make eye contact with them when singing lines like “your bubblegum tongue.” The goal, he explained, was to find “some moment of connection with someone not enjoying the song and to have him show me with his face that I won him over.” As he played the song, the screens showed the crowd, and it didn’t take long to see that such a sexy song (even if it leans a bit cheesy) does indeed appear to make some feel a bit uncomfortable when heard in person.
Near the end of the show, I delighted in getting to hear “Walt Grace’s Submarine Test, January 1967” live; I love the sweet story of this song. Mayer continued to switch guitars throughout the evening, as is the wont of most skilled players. This time, however, he chose a double-necked acoustic for “Gravity;” the performance was as special as such an instrument deserves. The song turned out to be the end of his show, though of course I knew an encore was likely.
When he reemerged onstage, Mayer admitted that he spends “a great deal of time in my head going, ‘I hope you like it…’” He’s written a lot of songs, and “every time I pick one, I hope you like it.” Mayer went on to explain that he had achieved a lot of success and accomplished a lot, and that hoping that the crowd enjoys the songs and his performance was all that was left, calling it the “final frontier.” (“It’s not ‘making it,” it’s not meeting a beautiful girl… I just hope you like it.”)
I remember a time when John Mayer was quite controversial. Still, before that, I knew an incredibly talented singer-songwriter from Connecticut who seemed to be a genuinely sweet man with an open, vulnerable, and sensitive heart. I remember witnessing him quitting Twitter and stepping back from the media circus a bit. I remember when he fell in love with Montana and moved away, resurfacing later and declaring that he was focused on the music again. I remember feeling relief that perhaps I’d been right about who he really was (whether or not that’s any of my business is another story). Now that I’ve seen him perform a few times in the past few years, I feel proud that he seems to have regained who he really was, and he’s done so with grace. There are probably plenty out there who still remember the negative press around him from over a decade ago, but I believe the fans know who he really is, and maybe we always did.
The two songs of Mayer’s encore were worth waiting for: “Born and Raised,” which I find increasingly poignant as I continue to grow. While I like the recorded version of the song, I find the live version to be breathtaking, as I’m a sucker for a great harmonica solo, and Mayer didn’t disappoint. Finally, the night concluded with Mayer’s brilliant cover of the late Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’.”
As usual, I didn’t want the show to end, but I’m also an introvert who wanted to get home. I reluctantly extracted myself from the arena and headed home, listening to more John Mayer and thanking my lucky stars that I get to do what I love.
(Pssst… Want to check out the full setlist from the show? It’s here.)
