For the record, I’ve been a fan of John Mayer since the early days – the early 2000s, when he was all about complex acoustic guitar compositions, random jazz chords and impressive wordplay. My introduction to his music was by way of a compilation CD a friend made me, burned chronologically between his debut big-label album, Room for Squares, and his second, Heavier Things. This CD featured the hits of the time (yes, including Your Body is a Wonderland) interlaced with some solid early album fodder, but it was a bootlegged solo-acoustic version of Why Georgia that interested me most. As a young guitarist myself, I found the fretwork on that song incredibly impressive, and the fact that he was able to sing the cleverly structured lyrics at the same time impressed me more. I was hooked.
Since then, I’ve always followed his music, seen him live in the UK whenever he’s been over (he’s a monster live), and have been enough of a fan to feel like I have some understanding of the phases of his career that have brought us to the release of his latest album, Sob Rock.
First up, this record is not to be taken seriously, and deliberately so. Everyone who listens to it and is of sufficient age should be instantly transported back to the 80s, where musically every song both has its origin and pays tribute. Yet, for those too young to have the memories, the music is crafted with enough reverence that it serves as a stepping-off point to explore those sounds further. The album has a purpose.
In contrast, and certainly since Born and Raised, Mayer’s albums haven’t really had a point. They’ve all had a few excellent tracks on, good enough to satisfy the detractors, but even as a fan I’d struggle to listen to the whole of them and not feel like I was listening to a disjointed collection of ideas – I’d find myself making excuses for the weaknesses. This changes with Sob Rock, with each song meticulously serving to crystalise some very specific musical moments from 80s pop-rock heritage, and, crucially, for a laugh. The whole thing is gloriously naff.
When New Light and Carry Me Away were released as singles long before this album was even announced, even I struggled with them. They were good and they felt like they belonged together, yet they felt homeless as a pair, and so they felt cheesy, even with New Light’s fantastically paradoxical video. With the release of the album, however, I can now enjoy these songs without caveat, understanding that there’s no need to mock them because they now have their home as part of a lovingly curated collection.
With Sob Rock, Mayer has created an impressive Where’s Wally of niche musical references amongst a coherent listing of fun songs. When thinking of the 80s in this context, a lot of people go straight to Huey Lewis, Guns ’n’ Roses or Journey, but he goes a bit deeper and more specific – it’s a pinch of 1989 Clapton wah here, a sprinkle of 1985 Dire Straits outro there and a garnish of 1987 Fleetwood Mac layering to finish, to name just three. It’s the musical equivalent of being asked to think of a retro mobile phone and thinking of the Nokia 3210 whilst Mayer reminds you of the banana phone in The Matrix with four bars of melody.
Though Mayer is obviously still a master guitar player (and arguably improving since extending into other projects like Dead & Company), he can’t really do the sort of lyrical introspection he used to be famous for without straying cringingly into an uncomfortably adolescent territory, which he’s suffered for to some extent on his last few albums – he’s in his forties, after all. And, given he doesn’t really have the storytelling ability of contemporaries like Jason Isbell, who by Mayer’s own admission “lives at a level where even great writers can only visit”, he has for some time needed to find somewhere else to hang his hat to continue to be musically relevant. Project Sob Rock is a worthy hat stand, and if there’s any truth to the rumours that he’ll be hosting a Jools Holland-esque talk show, he’s just provided evidence of the musical knowledge required to do that kind of show justice.
In any case, I can’t recall listening to an album in a long time that, knowing it was just for fun, I have enjoyed as much as this, safe in the knowledge that it wasn’t really meant to be critiqued. You either dig it, or you don’t, but I defy anyone to blast Last Train Home from their car in the sunshine and not have a massive smile on their face.
