Blues rock, 2003
Heavier Things, John Mayer’s followup to his successful Room for Squares, cements the bug-eyed shorty’s reputation as a homeless crackpot street prophet version of Bob Dylan. Who can resist Mr Mayer’s rousing cry for feminism in his amazing insomnia-breaking track Daughters? “Fathers, be good to your daughters, daughters will love like you do! Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, so mothers, be good to your daughters too!”
Never mind the amazing use of rhymes in that wonderfully poetic chorus – John Mayer will surely make us all understanding the truth about life better! I wonder whether he will write a song about his ruminations about Aung San Suu Kyi. I will probably jump off the roof of my apartment block if he does.
On Only Heart, John Mayer writes so amazingly that every pretentious fringed college kid with a guitar can only aspire to be like him: “And you love like your hand’s on the horn, baby; I adore you but there’s a hole in the cup that should hold your love” which culminates with that inspiring use of oxymoron couplets “If you let me leave, I swear I never will”. Musically, there is nothing here that holds up to the joyous musical feast that is Your Body Is a Wonderland, an ineptly written yet beautifully composed piece that is sexy and playful all in one. On Heavier Things, it’s basically Mr Mayer singing in ten different variations of a same key while bombarding me with his oh-so embarrassing lyrics. This CD is best played in college campuses where the young still mistakes blandness with a touch of weed as anti-establishment. One last cry, if you will, before the college kids grow up and become malcontent members of the rat race. And John Mayer is their street prophet with a guitar, spurring them on with nuggets like “People have the right to fly, and will when it gets compromised” (Wheel).
And a word of warning: browsing through the CD booklet, where the songs are categorized according to parts of the body each song is targeted to (Daughters is supposed to target my heart, while Wheel my thigh) and worse, may cause one to slash one’s wrists and soak them in bleach before one realize what is actually happening.