Last night my best friend Lisa was telling me it was 16 years, four months, and 29 days since I took her to her first John Mayer show. I flew out to Brisbane because I was so enamoured with this young singer-songwriter that I wanted more than just the Sydney show. She came with me, despite knowing just two songs, because she trusted my music taste. Just quietly, I think she still does. That seems a lifetime ago, but really not much has changed. This time though Lisa flew to Sydney, wanting more than just the Brisbane show this tour. But there we were, cheering just as hard for the clean-cut singer-songwriter who has barely seemed to age since our first shows at The Metro and The Tivoli.
The venues have gotten bigger. I loathe QUDOS, because it usually feels so impersonal. I remember at my first show, John reached over and placed a plectrum directly in my hand, then closed his hand over mine to hold it in place. Now the people in the front row are behind a barrier placed far enough back for photographers to weave in and out. They’re also paying top dollar for standing there. It’s the way the music scene works of course. You get bigger as an artist and the gulf between you and your fans grows. It takes a special musician to bridge that, but somehow John does. He chatted to the room like it was much smaller, just the way he always has. There was no pretense there, whether he was thanking us for taking songs into our hearts or wondering whether he takes his shirt off the right way.
The music fills a space like QUDOS now. The band has gotten bigger, more guitars, back-up singers, a wall of sound, yet John gets the balance right. While the sound is layered, it doesn’t overshadow the songs which at their heart are well-crafted poetry. The lyrics, the simple melodies, they never get lost. Even in the jam portions, it all works like a well-oiled machine. I love the evolution of John’s music, but I was also thrilled to hear him take it back to its roots with an acoustic section after the intermission. What a perfect way to ease us into the second set.
Back in the early days, you could feel confident about the songs you’d hear. Now though John’s back catalogue is so exhaustive you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get. He’s not one of those artists who sticks to the singles, and judging by the rapturous applause for album tracks like “In Repair” and “Changing,” fans are thankful for that. The unpredictably of the sets makes it so much special when you do hear your favourites. I didn’t dare dream I’d hear “Edge of Desire” or “Walt Grace,” let along both in the same set. For this Prince fan, hearing David Ryan Harris sing a little of “The Beautiful Ones” before John launched into “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” was magic.
What a set. What a night. There’s a part of me that gets nostalgic for those small venues and intimate crowds, but gazing around at the masses last night, with their phones ablaze swaying in time to the music was special. What John Mayer does is something bigger now, and that’s more than OK.
Image source: Stephen Katulka
