The Foo Fighters: the color(less) and the shape(less)
Published Oct. 2, 2007
I like Dave Grohl.
I always have. He's a hilarious guy. He's also tremendously talented. From his days in Nirvana to his virtuosic turn behind the kit for Queens of the Stone Age's 2002 album Songs for the Deaf to his guest spots for bands like Tenacious D, Nine Inch Nails and Cat Power, and now to his now 12-year reign at the front of one of rock's most popular bands, Grohl has consistently remained not only one of rock's most successful musicians, but also seemingly one of its nicest.
So it raises the question, why is Dave Grohl so mad? He used to be such a nice guy.
I don't know what goes on in Dave's personal life, but everything seems pretty good. He's married, has a kid, stays out of the tabloids, conquers the charts and European festivals, etc. But Grohl and his Foo Fighters used to be a whole lot more fun.
Their songs were ubiquitous, and though not loved by all, they rarely garnered the wrath saved for the other pop or gloom rockers controlling '90s rock radio.
And in 1999, after a string of uber-succesful singles ("Monkey Wrench," "My Hero," "Everlong," "Big Me") the Foos finally made a great album, There Is Nothing Left To Lose.
But that is where the story of the Foo Fighters' progression ends.
Despite the success of its lead single, "Learn to Fly," TINLTL didn't sell as well as its predecessors, and with all the turnover in the band's lineup, it seemed as if the band's heyday had come and gone.
But now, after two incredibly successful mainstream-oriented albums, One by One and In Your Honor, the Foos sit at the top of rock's throne after being left for dead eight years ago.
What has been lost in those eight years, though, is the charm, humor and altogether rock-solid songwriting of the band's first three releases. Where there used to be a melody, there's now a pummeling riff, and where there used to be snarky but always genuine and heartfelt lyrics, we are now left with the stock, "Yer so bad/ I am fighting the good fight," cliché lyrical nonsense.
The album's first song (and single), "The Pretender," follows this pattern painfully close, but it still manages to be memorable and induce fist pumping, though it doesn't exactly elicit the sunny thrills of albums past. But there is little else.
In "Let It Die" Grohl hoarsely screams its refrain, "Why'd you have to go and let this die?" And although it's probably about Kurt Cobain or something, it might as well be about Grohl leaving behind his past pop sensibilities for the doom, gloom and triple guitars of modern rock radio.
The Foos have basically become Daughtry with a back-story.
This might be good for filling up stadiums and rock-radio playlists, but it's oh-so-bad for those who loved the effortless pop rock the Foos made their name with.
Ghrohl isn't the underdog trying to prove he's more than a side note to the '90s most popular band anymore, and we are all worse off for it.
But not all is lost. "Ballad of the Beaconsfield Miners," although wholly disposable, is an enjoyable instrumental tribute to some Australian miners. "But, Honestly" shows what a Foo chorus sounded like before Grohl adopted his all-screaming-all-the-time mantra. "Cheer Up, Boys (Your Make Up Is Running)" shows they can still make an off-camera joke.
And drummer Taylor Hawkins is still a force of nature, but these are the exceptions, not the rule.
Grohl had his career crossroads in 2002, and he chose evil.
He might have won, but with each passing album, the line between what Grohl parodied with Tenacious D and what the Foos have become has become ever blurrier.