John Mayer

I hate John Mayer. I considered ranting about him myself. I would've mentioned his woefully outdated faux-neo-Clapton guitar bollocks. I would've mentioned the way he sings like a twat. I definitely would've responded to his line, "who says I can't get stoned?" by offering to bury him up to his neck and....well you can imagine the rest.... In fact, I hate John Mayer so much that writing about him made me so angry I had to delegate the task of destroying him to a fabulous guest blogger. Thereby, it is with great pleasure that I introduce the sophisticated writing of Richard 'THE MAYER SLAYER' Flanagan....

Before I start I should make one thing clear. As far as people go, I'm not the biggest John Mayer critic there is. There are times when his smooth, empty music really hits the spot. I like his commitment to his own independence and of course what red blooded male wouldn't appreciate the who's-who of America's most beautiful women that he seems to churn through.

I just can't figure out why he's famous. Surely it can't be for his ability to bring us revelations like that romantic relationships can be nuanced and complicated. Maybe its the rollercoaster of gritty emotional realism he depicts in his music. One moment, "I wanna scream at the top of my lungs!," the next "2am, I swear I might propose" (sounds like a good night). But then all that proposing at 2am takes its toll and there's a tantrum. "One more thing - why is it my fault? I just wanna be loved, just want to be funny". Tears before bedtime.

Maybe his popularity can be ascribed to the fact us conservative white people need a rebel too. I mean "who says I can't get stoned?" Well, no one actually. So probably not that then. All in all John's songs have all the characteristics of something by an 8 year old being taught creative writing. Similes involving colourful objects ("she's always buzzing like neon"), metaphors involving fun parks ("your body is a wonderland"), and a world view that shows he's yet to understand personal responsibility ("waiting on the world to change" = it's not my fault, I found it like that).

So unfortunately, the reason I'm being inextricably drawn to is that there are a lot of stupid people out there who buy music. And in this case, by stupid people, I mean stupid women whom I suspect wouldn't be interested in hearing the self-indulgent musings of a man in his early thirties if he wasn't six foot three and good looking. I, for example, am also self-indulgent and flawed but hardly anyone is reading this. It seems that when men reach for FHM, women reach for John Mayer. But in the same way that FHM isn't Hemingway, John Mayer isn't music. So please folks, push your tastes a little further afield. You'll still get to hear John's music any time you're in an elevator or waiting on hold at the bank. Maybe then the poor guy can live his tortured life in happy anonymity.