I should start this meandering thing with a disclaimer: I’ve seen Foo Fighters seven times1 since 2003, and I own two FF t-shirts.2 I’ve been a fan since I first saw the video for “Learn To Fly”3 all over VH1 in the latter half of 1999; I was 13 then, the perfect age. Three years later I was a high school junior, and I remember heading straight to Target4 right after class ended to buy One by One the day it came out. I even got the special edition with the bonus DVD. I played the shit outta record. It didn’t leave my car for months.
The first time I saw FF was on the ObO tour. They played Summerfest 2003, and played a handful songs they don’t play much anymore, like “Stacked Actors” and “The One.”5 I recall the Journal Sentinel’s coverage6 of the concert saying that Dave Grohl had a sore throat for the entire show but screamed his head off anyway because the show must go on and all that.
When In Your Honor dropped in the summer of 2005, I got that the day of release, too.7 I’d just finished my freshman year in college and I was home for the summer. I’d hoped they would come to town around then, but no dice. I really liked INY,8 especially the acoustic stuff. Neat experimentation, and nice to see a different side of the band, etc. etc.
I was working third shift at Target while attending UW-Madison when Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace was released in September 2007. I don’t remember whether or not I bought it the day of release.9 I do remember enjoying the album a great deal, although less than IYH or ObO. It was on this tour that I saw FF for the second time—to this day, the longest gap between shows for me—when they played the Harley Davidson 105th Anniversary show at Veteran’s Park in August 2008. I remember getting there late,10 just in time for Taylor Hawkins’ drum solo. Still, I had a great time.
Wasting Light, from 2011, is probably their best record. I said as much when it came out: “Instead, the band did what they do best: writing a collection of ridiculously catchy songs while continuing the legacy of Best Modern Rock Band.” It was during this tour that I saw them again—when they returned to Summerfest in 2012. This show was personally notable for two reasons: (1) they played an extra long set11 because, according to Dave, they’d accidentally skipped Milwaukee during the prior year’s touring behind WL; and (2) because my then-girlfriend, who was supposed to go with me, had broken up with me the day before the show and I had to scramble to find a replacement (while still heartbroken).12 I will say that Dave & Co. was about as good a balm for heartache as anything on Earth.
Sonic Highways, both the album and the show, I found to be a curio above anything else. The album was good, but it kind of had that St. Anger thing where the making of the record was more interesting than the record itself. The show, meanwhile, was an engaging watch but, ultimately, the premise was more interesting than the execution. It was an appealing experiment for them, and I applaud the effort of writing and recording in eight different cities. I suspect at least part of my enjoyment of SH is tied to the fact that it came out the year I moved back home to Milwaukee (2014), something I’d wanted to do for years.
Fast-forward to the 2015 Broken Leg / FF Throne Tour, where I saw them twice in the span of about six weeks. The first time was for the band’s 20th Anniversary Blowout in D.C. on July 4. I flew to D.C. and made a weekend of it.13 An ex-girlfriend drove in from Baltimore, and I met two other friends who’d also driven in from Baltimore for the show. It was a whole-day affair—several acts including LL Cool J and Joan Jett and the Blackhearts were scheduled—but it rained the entire day. It only stopped pouring right before Foos took the stage.14 That was the tour where the band was opening with the one-two punch of “Everlong” and “Monkey Wrench,”15 and then Dave going, “Didn’t see that comin’, did ya?” The second time was at Wrigley Field on August 29. I only went because a (former?16) friend had won a pair of tickets from a radio contest, and had asked me because she didn’t know anyone else who wanted to go. It was basically the same show as July 4—totally fine by me—except that Cheap Trick opened. I’d never seen them before, so that was a nice bonus.
2017 was a big Foo Fighers-related year for me. I saw them that November in Madison17 when they were touring behind the then-new Concrete and Gold LP. It was another excellent show, although the Kohl Center, much like the former Bradley Center here in Milwaukee, isn’t great for arena rock in terms of acoustics. Additionally, I wrote about the Foos twice that year. The first was a blurb about “Everlong” for Spectrum Culture’s 100 Best Songs of the ’90s—it was #70. I went full fanboy, calling it “Dave Grohl’s greatest achievement as a songwriter,” and concluding:
“Everlong,” then, is an ellipsis. Even its opening line suggests a continuum (“Hello, I’ve waited here for you / Everlong”). By its end, Grohl’s wish is not granted; instead, it hovers over his head and18 doesn’t stop him from being unabashedly optimistic as the song fades into the distance. Perhaps that’s why it’s been the band’s closer for most of their career. It’s not only because it’s the band’s pinnacle, but also because it’s an attempt to end on a hopeful note—a kind of “maybe next time, guys” to inspire all the heartbroken people out there to find a new, better, perfect love. That might be why “Everlong”’s fever dream video is a perfect fit: for love’s cynics, only in a dream could such a reality be true.19
The other time I wrote about them in 2017—which also happens to be the most recent thing (until now) I’ve written about FF—I went full music critic: I gave CaG a 3-outta-5 and argued that it wasn’t a great record, but it also wasn’t gimmicky like its two predecessors. I ended the piece thusly:
Concrete and Gold, like Sonic Highways, plays it a bit too safe to hit the band’s highest water marks, but for many who just want a mainstream rock record to escape reality with, it’ll do just fine. “I don’t wanna be king / I just wanna sing a love song,” sings Grohl at the album’s outset. “Pretend there’s nothing wrong / You can sing along with me.” At this point, Foo Fighters have settled into their role as comfort food—and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Now, that may come off as a bit of a dig. And, yeah, maybe it is. But it’s also a sober acknowledgement of what the band is and, perhaps more importantly, what the band isn’t. And what the band isn’t is art. FF’s music isn’t intellectual, lyrically or musically. It’s not High Society stuff, not is it meant to be. What the band—and, really, just Dave—is is teenage cathartic release through capital-R Rock ’n Roll: rawk music with broad lyrics and big hooks. Or as I said in 2011:
The whole reason behind the Foo Fighters’ existence is simply an excuse for Dave to get his rocks off, whether in his garage or on stage (preferably the latter, of course). Sure, he wanted to write songs beloved by many, but he’s always wanted to simply shake the earth with a power chord or a crash cymbal. Witness him play if you’re skeptical. Yet, I’ve watched a band be torn apart in the critical community for writing simple, melody-based rockers that deserve to be shouted along to by tens of thousands. Really? That was the goal for them from the outset.
Dave’s a hardcore kid and a metalhead at heart. Go listen to his Probot project for all the proof you need of that.20 And he’s forever gonna be that teenager who dreams of having something he wrote sung back to him by thousands. Watch any interview he’s ever done and you’ll see an aw-shucks dork who fronts one of the biggest bands on Earth. He loves his job and he plays every show with the inexhaustible effervesce of a kid who’s suddenly plucked from the crowd, brought onstage, and given a guitar.
And he makes music with that same bountiful enthusiasm. To listen to the Foos or to see them live is to be enter the warm and familiar. It’s the scent of your childhood bedroom. It’s a warm blanket knitted by Grandma. It’s your (awkward) first kiss. It’s comfort food—that which is nostalgic and relieves stress. It’s that which makes you feel better, or at least just less shitty.
So yeah, Foo Fighters are a gift—a miracle, even—from a helluva nice guy who does cool shit like fill a fan’s beer during a show and Rickrolls the Westboro Baptist Church and puts on shows which are a guaranteed blast to attend.21 And after the last five years, I (we) fuckin’ need it.
Soon to be eight if their show on July 30 here in Milwaukee happens.
One was a gift (a large that’s ill-fitting); one was purchased (a medium that fits well) that was made for attendees of the band’s pair of shows at Wrigley Field on July 29-30, 2018, of which I was one.
A music video which I hadn’t seen maybe since it was a hit until I revisited it during the writing and editing of this piece. It’s notable in 2021 for two reasons: (1) it’s still funny, especially Dave Grohl as a pilot who drinks spiked coffee and then tries to fly a plane high as shit; and (2) seeing Grohl with short hair is jarring and weird.
Pretty sure it was Target.
Because they don’t play it anymore, I’d forgotten “The One”—a decent-sized hit for them—existed.
I can’t find the story in JS’s online archives, since they don’t go back that far. Oh well.
I believe I went to The Exclusive Company for the purchase this time around.
It’s unfortunate that the only song from IYR the band still plays is “Best of You.” I’d love to hear “DOA” or “No Way Back” live just once.
I’d already heard it several times prior to its release thanks to an internet leak, so probably not.
Because I was still working third shift and I’d tried to nap prior to the show. I was so tired that part of my tardiness was because I was debating not going.
Which was somewhere around 2.5 hours long (and now more or less a standard length show for them), and included a cover of Tom Petty’s “Breakdown.”
I did find a replacement the day of, but the friend only agreed to go when I offered the ticket to him for free.
The whole thing—the round-trip flight, hotel, food, concert tickets—ended up costing about a grand. (Yikes.)
I don’t believe in God, but . . .
Which is roughly equivalent to Journey opening with “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “Any Way You Want It.”
We haven’t spoken in four years. No animus as far as I know; we just drifted apart.
Aaron Rodgers was apparently in attendance, as well.
I think this “and” should be a “but.”
It’s probably not a coincidence that this is among my favorite blurbs I’ve ever written.
It’s a superb record, by the way, and worth checking out if you’re into metal and punk. Dave wrote all the music and played most of the instruments, and then recruited a bunch of his heroes growing up including Lemmy from Motörhead, Kurt Brecht from D.R.I., and King Diamond. The neat part is that he tailored each song to the vocalist, so the Lemmy song is punky and snarling, while the King Diamond song sounds like Mercyful Fate.