Foo Fighters – But Here We Are
(Roswell Records, Inc.)
Reviewed by Tim Gruar.
Still mourning the loss of drummer Taylor Hawkins fans celebrated the return of Foo Fighters to the world tour circulate. Ahead of their local dates next year I turned up the dial to eleven in anticipation of the band’s new and cathartic mosher for a cleansing rage around my living room.
We have precedent for times when musicians need to mourn. They just seem to be able to sum up best what we can’t yet deal with. In fact, it’s them we turn to, like poets and priests, for guidance, direction and support.
In rock there are countless examples. For instance, Clapton famously wrote ‘Tears in Heaven’ following his son’s tragic accident. Sufjan Stevens made a quietly moving album called ‘Carrie & Lowell’ (2012) on her death about lifelong difficulties with his mother. Following the loss of Richie Edwards in mysterious circumstances, Manic Street Preachers buried themselves is the studio and emerged with the prosaically titled “Everything Must Go’ (2016).
Music is littered with incidences. In a similar fashion, following months of tragedy, Dave Grohl undertook a similar act of creative grief, rallying his troops to write in honour of those gone, our own mortality and implications for those who remain.
Grohl begins the Foos’ 11th release tentatively on a few strumming bars of the first single, ‘Rescued’, as if he’s broaching a sensitive subject. A tender spot, pushed gently as he reveals his own vulnerability before the song explodes into a purgative outburst of melodic mid-rock energy.
In truth, this song, and indeed the whole album is a likely response to loss: First, the disturbing and sudden death of the bands’ beloved drummer Taylor Hawkins last year in Bogotá, Colombia and second, the passing of Virginia, Grohl’s mother, who checked out a few months later (and was not publicly announced at the time).
On ‘Rescued’, it seems Grohl was addressing Hawkins directly: “It came in a flash/It came out of nowhere/It happened so fast/And then it was over.” He continues to unpack the shock: “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is this happening now? Oh / Are you feeling what I’m feeling? This is happening now”. It’s a visceral reaction, unfettered by any attempt to cloak his emotions in poetic ambiguous lyricism, like other writers. This is not how Grohl and the lads operate. More straight to the point. People have stuff to do, get on with it.
Everyone deals with death differently. For some, it’s a quiet, inward journey or a reflection. Others celebrate the life just gone. Some rage, fight, or turn inward looking for answers and destroying everything in the way. Some can’t understand the concept of music written for a stadium. Music for many to share in a mass, a cathartic, swirling maelstrom of healing. They will accuse those who seek to create this kind of art as selfish. But there’s real value in releasing this pain outward and asking the 40,000 fans in situ to embrace the eulogy.
The uncomfortable circumstances surrounding Hawkins’ death and the ensuing commentary from the band do little to settle the soul. They raise many questions about mental health, and addiction and spotlight the dismal level of available mental health support for musicians in the industry. This is one reason why organisations like Music Helps was formed, here in Aotearoa, providing real support for artists going through difficulty and crisis.
Grohl doesn’t dwell too deeply on the subject either. Perhaps he prefers to speak about Hawkins’ issues through his drum kit, as he plays the skins with ferocious energy all the way thought this album. On tour the kit will be frequented by Josh Freese (who’s performed with acts such as Sting, Nine Inch Nails, Weezer, Danny Elfman and the Vandals).
Returning to work with producer Greg Kurstin, for a third time, following 2021’s ‘Medicine at Midnight’ and 2017’s ‘Concrete and Gold’ Grohl, guitarists Pat Smear and Chris Shiflett, bassist Nate Mendel and Keyboardist Rami Jaffee hit LA’s 606 West studios to make their mass funeral music sound epic enough for the largest forums.
You could argue it’s no new trick. After all, Mozart wrote mass orchestral Requiems and Beethoven looked to death as a muse. Many composers have applied the grandiose in honour of the departed. Shouting all your pain to the sky with thousands of like-minded humans is an act of pure and primal, spiritual deliverance.
Speaking of spiritual, the obvious signs are there on ’Hearing Voices’, where Grohl speaks directly to his ghosts. “I’ve been hearing voices, none of them are you. “He implores answers from them, “Speak to me, my love.” When the fast and furious subsides and the song peters out, it’s Grohl stripped away to just him and his guitar left in his most vulnerable state.
The album’s title track attempts to be philosophical about our time on and off this mortal coil. It moves you to the core, not just from the catchy hooks but the dark and embittered messaging that can’t escape your cerebral reasoning. The sentiment is inevitability. It’s going to happen, get ready and deal with it: “Lay your burden down / Turn around / Turn around / Fate / Written in the stars / Arm in arm / Arm in arm we are forever caught in illusion / It’s not an illusion”.
‘Nothing at All’ swaggers about from slow to hard hat-heavy and fast, similar to early Nirvana era material. A real room-rage, with Growl in full scream-growl. It’s the most cathartic primal scream on the album and will shed several pounds of sweat off the mosh-pit ragers. At best it reminds me of highlights from one of my favourite albums from Bob Mould’s Sugar project, ‘Copper Blue’. Brutal, honest, angst and releasing.
‘Show Me How’ slows the pace and is a philosophical journey, a dreamier MOR enterprise. It’s a return to the shimmering shoegaze that appeared on the band’s first album, particularly on ‘X-Static’ with regular BV Greg Dulli sitting this one out in favour of the more sweet and consoling harmonies of Grohl’s daughter Violet.
The jury’s out on ‘The Teacher’. The introduction is very Pink Floyd (think ‘Wish You Were Here’). But then the atom splits and explodes into yet another Wembley-sized mid-tempo banger. This is Grohl trying to be optimistic and forward thinking. Dragging himself out of his moping, his dark room, throwing open the curtains and letting in the light: “Hey kid, what’s the plan for tomorrow? / Where will I wake up? Where will I wake up? “The song moves between fast and slow, to ask “who’s at the door now”? How do we move on? “You showed me how to breathe, never showed me how to say goodbye”. How do we make peace? How do we go on? Try and make good with the air that’s left / Counting every minute, living breath by breath / By breath, by breath, by breath”.
From intervals of slow and delicate, the climax builds to angst filled full on amplified distortion. This is throwing all furniture at the wall, the windows smashed and the curtains set on fire. For those going through loss, especially in unexpected or sudden tragic circumstances, this song above all others feels like the one to turn to when the real cleansing is required.
There are a few moments where the melancholy gives way and the music becomes just a little too sludgy. ‘Beyond Me’ is like this, too. A fine ballad in other’s hands, I’m sure, but a bit tedious to endure on this collection. The same goes for closer ‘Rest’. The necessary book end for the album, just a bit to tedious for these ears. Yet, it’s a necessary thing, as Grohl sings his departing lines: “Rest, you will be safe now / You will be safe now / Waking up, had another dream of us / In the warm Virginia sun, there I will meet you.”
Foo Fighters’ 1995 debut album was a break away from Nirvana, Kurt and all the baggage that brought. This new release feels different from those times. It’s informed by decades of maturity, experience and depth. The band say it explores “a brutally honest and emotionally raw response to everything Foo Fighters have endured recently.” That feels about right. Overall listening, you really get it. This is music that runs the emotional gamut, pivoting from anger, rage and sorrow to acceptance as they deal with the first chapters of a post-Hawkins band life.
But while there are nods back to the first Foo albums I can help looking more to Shihad, Everclear, and bands of that ilk for my sonic references. Still, this is undeniably a mid-aged listen. The music remains mature and comfortable, not too deep or obscure – share ready. Road trip ready for a fishing trip with mates – complete with eski full of beers.
Musically, this is MOR, with the Dads still confidently driving the bus, albeit with a few stops to wipe that speck from the weeping eyes. It’s a safe ride. No chance of violent swerves into challenging ditches or disappearing down dodgy streets or meandering country lanes. But above all, this is Foo Fighters, pure and simple. A new chapter, definitely. But still the same Dave Grohl rock-fest we know and love. And there’s definitely nothing wrong with that, especially in these uncertain times.
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