The first concert I’ve ever been to that involved commercial breaks, and suffered for it. Marketed as a concert with the filming for a TV station only mentioned as a side note, the organizers of John Mayer at the Beacon theater pretty much made an audience pay a hundred dollars a ticket to cheer and create ambient noise or ‘ambi’, as those in the biz like to call it. As Mayer muttered his way through the commercial intervals unscripted and unprepared, there was a distinct sense of being cheated amongst the troops- I mean, couldn’t he at least have prepared a joke or anecdote? Were we only there to serve the sales of his new album?
I would go so far as to say that this feeling of Mayer not needing to ‘perform’ pervaded the entire evening. That, and the smell of blow. While his voice remained solid and his skill was undeniable, the entire show had the air of a beefed up jam session in the singers basement- lack of audience interaction, poor use of space, little or no sense of occasion. Mayer seemed more intimate with his guitar than with his fans.
What bothered me most was that this lack of showmanship or effort on the part of the artist did not seem to deter the fans or stop them picking up their cues to scream in support. As soon as John Mayer moved a muscle, bent a knee or lunged a few feet forward, they went wild.
As far as I’m concerned, if you can close your eyes and still have the same experience, what’s the point in paying to attend the concert? You can have the same experience by buying the record. You pay to see Mayer sell it, to see the music come alive. Maybe we’ve become so conditioned to lip syncing and the privileging of the mechanics of performance over the voice that we see this kind of thing as more authentic, more of a true fan experience. Even if our expectations have been lowered however, why should we settle for the kind of second rate shit that I’m sure Mayer could have performed in his bedroom with no rehearsal whatsoever.
As I watched the evening unfold, I remembered the Rolling Stones playing the Beacon theater for a final time. Jagger controlling the space, engaging with his audience, strutting the stage like Barbie on crack. Now that was a show. I’ll still enjoy Mayer’s music but I’ll not pay again for something I could enjoy just as well in the comfort of my own home.