John Mayer recently gave a salacious interview with Playboy wherein he asserted, among other things, “My dick is sort of like a white supremacist,” and casually dropped the n-bomb when asked whether he had a “hood pass.” The public fallout from the interview thoroughly ridiculed Mayer and his eager, awkward grappling with his own celebrity. Because as much as he may fancy himself a rock star, Mayer’s strength lies in acknowledging and indulging his delicate insecurity and soft-pop appeal. His latest album, Battle Studies, full of emotive ditties about regrets and heartaches, is exactly what fans adore about him and showcases the vulnerability it seems he’s attempting to escape. Mayer is an exceptional guitar player, and his live show promises to deliver all that an adult contemporary arena affair should. The peanut gallery suggests, however, that Mayer take a cue from a man with a comparable style, Dave Matthews, and trade the L.A. arm candy and hubris for Birkenstocks and a stroll down Wallingford Ave. HOLLIS WONG-WEAR

Wed., March 31, 8 p.m., 2010