"I got half a smile and zero shame"

Typical morning scene.

I'm getting ready to start my day, walking around the apartment, bobbing my head to music.

Unusual selection. Mayer's "Continuum." The bobs are in time to the hot blues licks in "Belief," and I'm singing along -- in that "I half know the words and will scat during the rest" sort of way that comes with learning an album's material.

Belief is a beautiful armor
That makes for bah dobedo do
La la da da da
You never can hit who you’re trying for

Mayer's back, and I'm right back there with him, much to my disbelief. I'd sworn the guy off, had bid that music goodbye.

It began a few days before "Continuum" dropped. I found a website that was streaming tracks and took a listen, intrigued by the sound that resulted. Not half bad, Johnny.

Over coffee in Central Square on last Wednesday, the next step was taken. Nicole handed over her iPod so I could listen to "Slow Dancing In a Burning Room." I grinned.

I didn't realize at the time that I was being set up for a sucker-punch on Friday night.

I'm standing, smirking in the photo pit, waiting for Mayer to take the stage and listening to screaming calls for "JOHN MAYER JOHN MAYER JOHN MAYER." I promise myself that if the set to come at all evoked thoughts of the Counting Crows co-headling debacle, I'm out of there without a second thought, ready to happily take in Van Morrison's set at the other end of the park.

The screams are firing me up, though, and I realize that I'm excited to see what Mayer has up his sleeve, particularly when he'll be delivering the goods so close to where I stand. I grin as he walks out on stage and takes his guitar.

"Belief" kicks off the set, and I'm grooving. Head bobs as I move into position to get some shots, shoulders moving as I walk from spot to spot.

This music is hot. Confident, dynamic without straying into showy territory, the riff is a seemingly effortless hook, and the chorus dances off the tongue. Earnest without the schmaltz that drove me mad with "Heavier Things."

Mayer is similarly transformed. No more of the guy trying so hard to be the rock star everyone says he is; instead a musician confidently prowling the stage, dazzling the crowd with ease. It feels as if the singer-songwriter who quipped his way through the Higher Ground interview five years ago has finally morphed into the Stevie Ray Vaughan devotee he'd then claimed to be.

I don't see it coming until it was too late. Hooked, I grin up at the stage as I keep snapping off photos.

I thought John was lost and gone forever. Here he is. And through inexplicable turns of fate, here I am, standing right there to look up at him and welcome him back.