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CONCERT REVIEW: Mayer Hawthorne @ Union Transfer 4/18
You know that line between cheesy and classy? Mayer Hawthorne occupies a smiling place smack dab in the middle. If you heard him on the radio, you might assume you're listening to an old soul record - something in the way of Al Green or Smokey Robinson, hitting all those high notes with an ease that makes you wish all men could sing soprano.
CONCERT REVIEW: Mayer Hawthorne @ Union Transfer 4/18
You know that line between cheesy and classy? Mayer Hawthorne occupies a smiling place smack dab in the middle. If you heard him on the radio, you might assume you’re listening to an old soul record — something in the way of Al Green or Smokey Robinson, hitting all those high notes with an ease that makes you wish all men could sing soprano. If you saw Hawthorne in a magazine, you’d probably think they photographed the wrong guy: young white dude with hipster glasses and a round boyish face. Seeing him in concert last night was a sweet union of the two: It was like that moment in high school when you finally admit to yourself that you have a crush on the biggest nerd in class, and you decide it’s worth it to risk your social status and tell the world because, damn it, that nerd’s got sex appeal and boy can he sing!
Though he certainly doesn’t fit the mold of classic soul singer, Hawthorne’s schoolboy-crush aesthetic works to his advantage. Just as Barry White’s stocky silhouette and mess of jerry curl somehow became acceptable — even appealing — when he proudly took to the stage, Hawthorne’s look works specifically because he lets you know it’s working. The strange thing about sex appeal is that it’s only about 10% looks and around 90% swagger, a formula Hawthorne knows all too well. No matter how much I was tempted to make fun of his velvet tuxedo or the neon broken-heart icon glowing behind him, the confidence with which he carries himself on stage is undeniable, charming the audience into his world of cool cats and rad ladies where it’s perfectly ok to spend an entire afternoon pining after a girl you just met. There’s no doubt that Hawthorne evokes a different era: Hailing from the birthplace of Motown, he’s often been pinned as a “throwback” artist whose music is stuck in the soultrain station. Such claims often paint Hawthorne as somehow phony, attempting to recreate something that he wasn’t around to see. On stage, these references to the past feel surprisingly refreshing. Rather than simply copying singers of old, his music can be seen as an homage, using Motown as a mood board of inspiration for revitalizing the craft of live performance. The connection makes sense beyond the musical element: without the ability to rely on CD sales, contemporary musicians have more incentive than ever to return to the stage. Hawthorne embraces this fact whole-heartedly, giving you a performance in the most thorough sense of the word: his slick moves have that kind of casual ease that can only come from hours of practicing in front of the mirror, his inter-song banter is witty yet genuine, and he flirts with the audience in a way that lets you know he is indeed the master lover depicted in the lyrics of his love songs. This is not an experience that can be shared on Youtube. But people will still try, and Mayer Hawthorne will make fun of you for it.
Perhaps the most striking moment in the show was Hawthorne’s “photo op.” Bringing us fully out of Motown and into the digital age, he told the audience to do it, go ahead, take that picture you’ve been wanting to take, Facebook it, Instagram it, tell the world you’re at Mayer Hawthorne’s show. Everyone looked at each other kind of sheepishly at first, but then, taking their proverbial tales out from between their legs, raised their iPhones proudly into the air. Hawthorne hammed it up, posing with his bandmates and leaning in close to the audience before taking the act to a meta level when he handed over a camera to his bass player, plopped down in a chair facing away from the audience, and told us to “say cheese.” The division between audience and performer, voyeur and viewed, had become officially blurred. By reaching us on our own digital level, Hawthorne effectively let us know that you can be a hip, tech-savvy kid without losing any of that old school swagger. “That’s going on my twitter,” he informed us. “Tag me, dude!” someone shouted.
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