JASON MRAZ: From Genius to Irrelevant

Awghhh man, we used to love him. We saw him play in basements in front of 40 people, we saw him in tiny venues in Camden. He was really something. The voice was incredible and defied the limits of gender, the lyrics were fresher than this morning's rain and the concerts were epic. 

That was years ago. He finally got the BIG break, and absolutely everyone knows "I'm Yours". He entered the mainstream, yet he died as an artist.

And this isn't about not being a fan because he's not underground anymore. It's because he stopped taking risks. Such a unique artist who now, remarkably, sounds just like everyone else.

He came up in conversation last night. Steve reminisced about seeing him in Camden all those years ago, when Craig's new girlfriend chipped in with the fact Mraz has a new album out. I asked if she liked it, she said "it's really bland".

And that's what's so sad to hear. Because you could criticise Jason Mraz all you want, but you could never accuse him of being bland. But he is now. I feel it, and so did Craig's girlfriend, who I'd never talked to about music before.

Mraz may go on to sell heaps of records, but he's no longer relevant as an artist. Maybe he grew up, mellowed and matured. Or maybe he sold out. Having a hit like "I'm Yours" is great, but how do you sustain it? What's the formula? If you try to write hits, they'll be soulless and bland, as we're witnessing now. What everyone loved about him when he first came on the scene is how he was so UNIQUE! 

It's impossible to deny the fact his music has lost its edge. There were four Jason Mraz fans at the table last night. Three diehards and one casual, and none of us care anymore.

You can make it big, play to arenas, and chase the hit singles, but THAT is impossible to sustain, because the mainstream doesn't care, and your core fanbase knows you're not real anymore.

Jason Mraz has so much talent. Seriously, this guy has everything. But the bland records sound like everything else on the radio. He's only 35 and already he's playing it safe. I guess that's fine, he's got a house to upkeep, but he has the talent for greatness. I hope he finds his way back to it. 

Greatness is the hardest thing of all. Especially in this day and age. People often ask, "Would this generation's Springsteen or Dylan succeed?" and the answer is often "No". That's probably true, but let's not completely blame the industry. It comes down to the artists as well. The road to being relevant and brilliant is a longer one, with less guarantees, but someone has to take up the mantle. We need the next Tom Petty. 

 "And you may think it's all over 

But there'll be more just like me 

Who won't give in 

Who'll rise again"

 -Tom Petty

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Lost Without Each Other

It reminds me of you. I don't know why, it's not even the lyrics. It's the energy. It just sounds like you. And yes, I know it's a Hanson song, but I guess I'm going to have to get comfortable with that fact. 

I like the idea that we're lost without each other but I think I'm just lost without you. You go on without me. It's like that line, 'don't go saying that you're okay, when you're lonely'. I don't think you're lonely at all. Does a girl like you get lonely? Maybe secretly, but never in front of me.

I'm tired of running from my feelings

Are you listening? 

Are you listening? 

The guitar sounds like you. 2.25-2.45; I hear you in there, crashing through the song like a big wave. Musicians often talk about how they don't know where inspiration comes from. But that bit of guitar sounds so like you that you must have emitted some feeling or emotion out into the ether which they grabbed onto -- because there's no way that solo could be inspired by anything else in the world other than you. 

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My Final Song

A Piece of Fiction.

 My name is Victoria. I have the same plans and dreams as you, but unfortunately I won't get to make them a reality, for my time on this earth is running out. I won't bore you with any more than the essential details. Those details are: the cancer has eaten away at me for a very long time, and my journey is sadly coming to an end.

It's the weirdest situation to be in. I can still close my eyes and dream of trekking my way across India, but I'll never get to do it again. Never get to hold Bradley's hand on top of a mountain, nor will I get to see Ben Folds in concert any time soon. The options have decreased faster than I ever imagined.

But I have one huge decision left to make, and I only have days to make it. I'll tell you the decision I've been pondering: what should be the last song I ever listen to?

I made the mistake of asking this question to my family, who all handled it in different ways. My Mother asked how I could worry about such insignificant things. My father told me not to be so morbid, before forcing his Black Sabbath CDs on me.

Bradley made me a beautiful CD. He was caught between poignant ballads and cheesily uplifting songs. I don't blame him. What songs do you play to a dying girl? Don't tell him this but the second half of the CD bored me. Too many piano ballads. I know I'm on my death bed but a girl still needs to rock out sometimes.

The last song on his mix was Warren Zevon's "Keep Me In Your Heart", which is one of the most beautiful songs ever written about death and love. I cried for six minutes straight (despite the song only being 3.18). It was a perfect last song, at least it would have been, but it didn't quite nail how I was feeling.

Bradley was always great at picking the music, he just wasn't very good at loving me. His attempt at making up for this with a perfect last song was a nice idea, but doesn't quite make up for the emotional distance he kept from me over the last two years.

And Black Sabbath wouldn't cut it either.

I woke up on a Tuesday morning in a hospice, with a nurse in front of me who looked like she'd seen a ghost. Then I turned my weary head to the left and saw Aunt Geraldine. She hadn't been seen around the family since 1996. The bad news is that her arrival certainly meant I was close to dead. The good news? Geraldine introduced me to Joni Mitchell. There was hope yet that I would find the perfect song for my end credits. 

Puff Daddy's 'I'll Be Missing You' came on the radio, yuck. I asked the nurse to turn it off. She nodded 'yes' and immediately tried to scoop some ice cream into my mouth. I said "No, the radio", and she again tried feeding me. 

Five minutes or maybe five days later and everyone I'd ever loved crowded over me. It was a beautifully touching moment, the perfect ending to a life where I have fallen in love four times and been stung by a wasp eleven times.

But it wasn't complete. Sure, you're thinking, 'she deserves another fifty years', but that's not it. We get what we get then someone else gets to roll the dice. That I'm okay with, I just desperately wanted to hear something exceptionally beautiful one last time.

'Ave Maria' began playing from my iPad, which my sister was holding. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, this is my favourite piece of music, which I've sung either out loud or in my head every day of my life. On the other hand, what on earth makes Jessica think she can use my iPad? I had no energy to complain, and conceded that I'd have very little use for Apple products in the afterlife.

I closed my eyes and indulged in the aching beauty of Leontyne Price's voice, and came to the conclusion that everybody in the world is absolutely beautiful. 

Apart from Jessica. Why does she have my iPad? 

She handed me the device. "Maybe you should pick a song," she said. I looked at her and smiled. I turned to Bradley. He was here, he'd tried. I realised how hard it is for a guy like him. These thoughts filled me with an unexpected peace.

I drearily looked at the screen in front of me. I fumbled my way through my mp3's. And then I found it, the piece of perfectness I'd been searching for. 

I hit play and listened to my final song.

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THESE DAYS / RUNNING ON EMPTY / FOR A DANCER

"Don't confront me with my failures,
 I had not forgot to make" 

-Jackson Browne

 Jackson Browne wrote 'These Days' when he was 16. In the performance below, he was in his mid fifties.

The video contains two songs: 'These Days' and 'Running on Empty'. I recommend turning your phone off and closing your emails, just for eight minutes. Indulge in this. The payoff is huge. Jackson Browne is one of those artists who manages to influence everybody, yet somehow stay under the radar. But there's something about him, that voice, the delivery. It's profound. You'll find yourself in this. Just give it eight minutes, trust me. 

And then there's 'For a Dancer'. A beautiful song about life, and loss. I have an urge to write a lot about it, but then again; with Jackson Browne, you just have to listen, really listen, it's all that matters.

"I don't know what happens when people die, 

Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try"-

Jackson Browne

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