There is episode of Friends with a guys vs. girls quiz where the question is posed “Rachel claims this is her favorite movie…” The answer is Dangerous Liaisons. This is followed up by the question, “Her actual favorite movie is?” And Joey hollers, “Weekend At Bernie’s!” John Mayer is my Weekend At Bernies. I will claim endlessly that I want to be Marvin Gaye, or Jeff Buckley or Miles. But at the end of the day, if I’m honest, it breaks my heart that I am not John Mayer.
I tend to attach qualifiers to John’s work. “Yeah, I like John, but I’ve been listening to him since the Eddie’s Attic bootlegs.” Or something less honest like, “I’m a John Mayer fan, but I like his album cuts, not those bubblegum singles.” That’s not fair. Do I like “Daughters”? No. But am I a fan of “Your Body Is A Wonderland”? Absolutely. Still I find myself skirting the subject. It’s a correlation I try to avoid when people listen to my own music and guess at its roots.
It would be easy to create a John Mayer laundry list of reasons for anyone to wish they had John’s career, but the success is not the point. If you have your own John Mayer and their success is your roadblock you need to rethink your frustrations. Sure, John’s level of success is rare, but in itself it is something anyone can strive for. The issue is my relation to his body of work. I’ve had this crutch since long before I knew being John Mayer meant sleeping with Jennifer Aniston and getting praised by Eric Clapton.
Now when I go back and listen to “Inside Wants Out” it is admittedly good, but if I were just discovering the record it would probably only hold a passing interest. “Inside Wants Out” is where I was at 20. The thing about John’s work is the synchornicity. I get a record, I obsess over it, I decide I’ve outgrown it and leave it behind. Then a new record drops and John seems to have grown in parallel with my own life even as I thought I was breaking away.
This is a dangerous relationship for anyone creative. Left unchecked it can be paralyzing because with each change and growth in life it is easy to feel the work has already been done for you. That someone has already said it better. I wouldn’t discourage having your own cornerstone in any form of art- Dylan had Woody Gutherie, Marvin had Sam Cooke, but once you identify a dependent relationship on someone else’s art you damn well better watch your moves and think about where you are going. It is too easy to get stuck in the trap of subconsciously asking “what would John Mayer do?” And with a deep enough knowledge of that artist the answer is easy, you can hammer their response to that chord progression right out, but you are no longer making art. You are creating second hand.
So how can you break out of this? I set limitations. I don’t deny myself the music, that seems counter productive. If something inspires you it should be investigated down to a molecular level. But I have periods of indulgence I allow and then force myself to turn off the stream. During spaces of creativity, when I am working on new music, I listen to everything I can get my hands on, except John Mayer. His music is so ingrained that without restraints I begin copying without realizing it, snagging lines, mannerisms, chord progressions. And while I am a great fan of reinterpreting stolen bits of art, I draw the line at the places that hit closest to home. It keeps me honest. Keeps me working towards my own goals and not projecting myself onstage when I hear “My Stupid Mouth”. And most importantly, when someone says, “I can hear a little John Mayer in your music” I don’t hastily respond, “John who?”