Eddie’s Attic, Take Two
The John Mayer Edition
Oh I wanna take two
I wanna break through
I wanna know the real thing about you
Eddie’s Attic, take two. Following last week’s edition, one of our biggest supporters reached out with her own Eddie’s Attic story, this one involving John Mayer.
The Music Swap at its finest. One music story leads to another. You start with Drew Holcomb, then you’re talking John Mayer.
So here we go. A John Mayer edition. Three Mayer song selections and a Bonus Track about seeing him live before his meteoric rise. Let’s see where this takes us.
Kody’s Pick: My Stupid Mouth
I wrote this on a plane with access only to my downloaded Spotify songs. I currently have two from Mayer. The first provided the intro lyrics. “My Stupid Mouth” is the second. I first dove into Mayer’s freshman album, Room for Squares, on a flight to Las Vegas en route to a high school baseball tournament.
Something about Mayer’s songs fit perfectly with the dark, empty night sky. Give it a try the next time you have a late-night flight.
Mat’s Pick: Vultures - Live at the House of Blues, Chicago
This album changed my opinion on John Mayer. And this song takes me back to college. A friend loaned me this record when I made a derogatory comment about Mayer, and I have been a fan since. Enjoy this little dose of nostalgia. What a great track.
Adam’s Pick: Walt Grace’s Submarine Test, January 1967
“Cause when you’re done with this world
You know the next is up to you”
I would like to start by saying that John Mayer is a national treasure. His story is one of true redemption—from villain to a beloved member of Dead and Company. He has truly righted the ship (or submarine).
Born and Raised is one of my favorite Mayer albums, and Walt Grace’s Submarine Test is arguably the best on the album. It might be the only song Mayer didn’t write from his own perspective, which leaves plenty of room for speculation and debate. I first heard this album when I got it on loan from the local library. I would frequently meet a dear friend at the library, and we would wax poetic about all the music we had at our fingertips in the CD section. To this day, I love listening to this song and thinking about what the outcome actually was.
Bonus Track: Eddie’s Attic, Take Two by Jenni Goebel
Kody’s connection to Atlanta folks has made me smile on more occasions than I can count when I read The Music Swap. Now in Dallas, Texas, a word from my homeland is a word of comfort. And a song from my homeland is even sweeter to the ears and the heart.
Now, I know John Mayer is not an Atlanta, Georgia native, but he signed his first record deal in Atlanta, and according to the cold hard facts on Wikipedia, it was also where he gained a small following. That small following included a 17-year-old Jenni and her company of friends.
I was a senior in high school and a full-throttle journalism lover (read: geek). A friend I worked with on the yearbook staff, Travis, graduated a year before me and left for Athens, where he wrote for The University of Georgia’s paper, The Red and Black. Travis calls me up one day — or maybe it was AIM? — and says he interviewed a singer/songwriter who did a show in Athens and is sending me his CD because I am going to love it. Readers, it was a burned CD. I’m sorry. I really am. I repent. But that burned CD was loaded down with the smooth, sweet sounds of John Clayton Mayer, and it did not leave the 6-disc changer of my 4Runner for … forever. It never left. Until it did, and I don’t know where it is, and I would give a toe or two to find it. Some of the songs from that illegally pirated CD were from Room For Squares, and some were live recordings of songs I have never stumbled upon elsewhere or heard again. That CD changed me. Until John Mayer, I was a reluctant country music listener. You just had to be as a high schooler in Georgia to keep up with the crowd. I listened to classic rock with my dad and loved it, and still do. But this was a sound and a song of my generation. My age (kinda), my town, my life. I mean, for Pete’s sake, he was singing about running through the halls of his high school and screaming at the top of his lungs. Add in great fodder for romantic, yet not experienced (remember, journalism geek) pining. He named streets from my neighborhood and sang my state’s name (now, my daughter’s name—and you better believe we sing it to her all the time).
That CD sent me and some of my high school friends on a quest to find this man and led us to — Eddie’s Attic — where Barrett saw Drew Holcomb, I saw John Mayer. I guess the venue holds about a hundred people, and aside from an Amy Grant and a Backstreet Boys concert, I had never been to any “shows.” Just like that CD, this night at Eddie’s Attic changed it all. Now I knew what it was like for someone to give their art and soul to the people listening and wanting. Only a few months later, he performed at Centennial Olympic Park to a thousand people (I’m sure), and I was like, “I knew this guy was good.” While in college in Birmingham, Alabama, some friends and I went to see his show for the CONTINUUM tour and he walks out and says, “Let’s see if the radio works,” then that little tambourine shake, then high hat and kick drum intro for “Waiting on the World To Change” pops and everyone lost their minds.
Growing up ten years behind John Mayer has been a wild ride.
As Barrett said last week, “It’s funny how music finds you when you need it.” At seventeen, it was driving alone with the windows down, feeling like there must be a common experience to this life because this man was singing my inner thoughts.
At 20, it was a friend (who was very anti-pirating music) burning me CONTINUUM (I really am sorry for my past) without “Dreaming With a Broken Heart,” because a boy had absolutely shattered mine, and she knew it would hit too hard. I found out later—she’d left it off on purpose. When I eventually listened, it did. hit. too. hard.
At 26, it was re-hearing “Stop This Train” and quietly crying, holding her because I was a new mom.
At 29, it was screaming to “The Age of Worry” because I was on the other side of postpartum anxiety, and the song gave me a lot to yell at. Or sending my brother “Shadow Days” because I wanted him to know I thought he was a good man.
In my late thirties, it’s dancing with my favorite human to John Mayer’s cover of Beyonce’s “XO” while we’re cleaning out the garage. Just this weekend the airport speakers were playing “Still Feel Like a Man,” and I lost my husband for a moment while he closed his eyes and bobbed his head to what he says is “the sickest baseline,” and we talked for a long time about how he loves guitar and wishes he was good enough to play bass. John Mayer Trio Live is his all-time favorite. We love playing John Mayer on the house speakers on a Saturday and watching our little girls walk in and out of the house with friends, singing along.
Good music finds you when you need it. Like all things; it’s all held together. We need art, good art, good music, good books, good poetry, good lyric, good sound, music. It finds us when we need it.
So keep swapping.
Jenni Goebel lives in Dallas, Texas, and is a dispenser of laughter, joy, and deep truth to all who encounter her. She’s married to Paul and has three beautiful daughters. She danced with Paul to Georgia on My Mind, by Ray Charles at their wedding reception and once fell asleep at a Bon Iver concert.
Wow! Mic drop Bonus Track, Jenni! Has anyone else had a music shaping experience at Eddie’s Attic? Let us know!
Keep swapping,
-TheMusicSwap