Bruno Mars has a problem: he’s too perfect. His skin is too clear, his eyes are too bright, his suits are too flashy, and his when he sings, I get the distinct impression that he’s trying to sell me something. Mars’ retro Motown performance was a lot of fun — and his James Brown impression was spot-on — but at times it felt as contrived as a faux-vintage photo someone might snap with an iPhone. Mars is like the nice boy your parents want you to date. He’ll buy you flowers and hold the door open for you, but no matter what he does, you’re still going to pine for the brooding guy with the motorcycle.