John Mayer and D'Angelo Backed by The Roots Is the Dream Performance You Didn't Know You Needed

For some bands, the lead singer is a flashy neon sign. He's the signpost that the audience relies on to take them from one song to the next. The MC who controls the performance, the trusty weathervane for the crowd. Hence, lead being 50 percent of their job title. But for some truly great bands, it's the drummer, not the singer, who embodies that role.

Few other groups exemplify this better than The Roots. It would be insulting to describe Questlove merely as the drummer in the legendary hip-hop group. He is the nucleus, conductor, and heartbeat of the band—roles that Questlove also embodied for the entirety of the Roots Picnic this past weekend, his two-day long festival that took place in New York City for the first time. (The Roots Picnic has been taking place in their hometown of Philadelphia for a decade but this year marks the first time it expanded elsewhere).

The festival was a veritable reunion show for Questlove's longtime friends and collaborators. Luckily for everyone who came to Bryant Park, it just so happens that Questlove is friends with some of the best musicians in the world; the weekend's headliners were John Mayer, D'Angelo, Wu-Tang, Nile Rodgers, David Byrne, all backed by—who else—The Roots. It was 48 hours of legends jamming together on top of Mount Olympus, with Orpheus leading the choir. 
 
It wasn't until John Mayer walked on stage that I realized how talented Questlove was as a musical curator. My expectations for Mayer were moderate. Truthfully, I didn't know how he would fit in with the rest of the soulful, funky performers that had dominated the stage thus far. But any doubt I had vanished within the first twang of his guitar.

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Mayer proceeded to take the audience on a series of extended, mournful guitar solos that sent chords bouncing through chilly midtown Manhattan and leaving the rest of us in the staked out in the park in awe. Like seeing Michael Phelps in water or Lebron James dribble a basketball, it was clear that John Mayer's body was simply designed to play guitar. His lanky frame doubled over, twisting and turning with each note. He was playing just as much for himself as for the hundreds of people in the audience. We were hardly there. It didn't matter. Occasionally he came up for air to croon, "Gravity is working against me/And gravity wants to bring me down," to which the crowd screamed along with him.

The legendary Pino Palladino, a member of The John Mayer Trio and longtime D'Angelo collaborator, helped out on the bass. Palladino's warm, thick bassline rounded out Mayer's high-octane guitar riffs. All the while, Questlove's smooth and steady percussion kept the whole ensemble on track.

It's easy to forget due to his lullaby smash hits, but John Mayer is a beautiful rock star cliché in every sense. He writhed in visible pleasure with every one of Questlove's beats and Palladino's down-tempo grooves. They did a cover of Bill Withers' Ain't No Sunshine prompting Mayer to practically wail the iconic "when she's gone" line. Someone had hurt John Mayer and we were all going to pay for it. I truly felt bad for every guy in the crowd who came here with his girlfriend. They never stood a chance.

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But Mayer was not the only sex symbol making the audience rethink monogamy. After Mayer's 30-minute set, it was time for D'Angelo, and he was late. In the meantime, Mayer kept riffing as Roots frontman Black Thought brought out former bandmate Rahzel, who casually beatboxed like a synth was inside his mouth. Oh, and then Dave Chappelle walked out, another surprise guest, to stall some more. "I'm only out here for two reasons: Kevin Hart couldn't make it and D'Angelo is late," the legendary comic joked. Finally, D'Angelo emerged from a hazy cloud of purple lights. The crowd snapped to attention. Down to business. If John Mayer's performance was mournful and sultry, D'Angelo's was 45 minutes of pure joy. His neo funk energy filled the entirety of Bryant Park and then some.

"We're the playas number one," he crooned, as he ran between piano and microphone and back again. He was grinning for most of his set, which was mostly made up of his old hits, including "Brown Sugar" and "Voodoo." Did it matter if there was anyone else in the crowd? Did anything matter besides you and his microphone? D'Angelo was singing to you because he was in love with you. What about that was unclear?

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D'Angelo's iconic songs were complimented by long, luxurious solos from Mayer, who remained on stage to back the R&B icon. The two flowed together seamlessly, along with Palladino and Questlove steady behind them, the entire stage transformed into a mini New York philharmonic orchestra. Solo by solo, Mayer would recede back and D'Angelo would run to the front. Then they would switch back again, both of them flawlessly trading off each other telepathically.

D'Angelo's final song wrapped up in a blaze of fog, horns, guitar solos, and wails of joy. And just like that, the musical orgy was over. The lights came up and crewmembers began wrapping up cables. Questlove stood up wordlessly, waved casually, and walked off stage. It was 9:59 PM. He had other shit to do.

​​Olivia Becker is a reporter for VICE News. Follow her on Twitter​.

​Pat Shahabian is a photographer based in New York. Follow him on Twitter​.

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