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Since 2001, he's released four studio albums, starting with is my best one.
But his guitar chops, especially in the bluesy area, are unquestionably great, and he can count Eric Clapton among his admirers.
A class clown in his early years, Mayer had taken up the guitar by his midteens and had begun shutting himself off in his room to the exclusion of everything else.
It's all he did and all he wanted to do – "kill it, kill it, kill it," with that guitar. While the other kids were listening to Nirvana, Mayer was deep into reading the Buddy Guy biography and cutting out the photos when he was done."He kept to himself quite a bit back then, and he was pretty quiet in school but hilarious once we got outside," says Fairfield-raised tennis pro James Blake, who's known Mayer since they were seven.
As the day wears on, he might call his shrink, which he does on "an as-needed basis." He might practice the Israeli fighting art of Krav Maga, which he got totally into after breaking up with a girl and deciding to "get good at something she doesn't know about." He might call his friend Bob, a fellow vintage-watch nut, to discuss their collections.
Mayer's is worth at least million; he can recite his holdings by heart; he knows all the numbers; he once stumbled across a rare Rolex dial variant, which is now known as "the Mayer dial." An obsessive, he has also collected sneakers, ladies' handbags, cameras, lots of stuff.
Resplendent in a black-leather slant-zip jacket, obscure Japanese kicks and insanely expensive vintage Rolex, he's charging forward in his typical hyperbolic Mayerian way, saying stuff like "Blowing me off is the new sucking me off! " Suggest that maybe he's exaggerating, and he takes deep umbrage, jackknifing his long body forward.