Early on in the Foo Fighters’ triumphant and very sold-out show at the Santa Barbara Bowl last week, some of us were surprised to learn that the ’90s-launched post-grunge supergroup hadn’t played an official Bowl show in many moons. After kicking off its explosive two-hour set with “All My Life,” leader Dave Grohl bellowed “we haven’t played here in 15 years. Let’s do it right,” then leaning into the soft-then-pounding popular tune “The Pretender.” (Actually, records show their last Bowl was in 2006, 17 years ago).
Despite the Bowl hiatus, there seems to have been a quasi-adoptive hometown relationship between Santa Barbara and the Foo over the years. Periodic pop-up appearances in such spaces as Muddy Waters, Velvet Jones (both beloved venues now lost to history) and the Red Piano. Santa Barbara-born-and-bred guitarist Chris Shifflett, in the fold for almost a quarter-century, has made a habit of bringing his solo act to SOhO around Christmas. To boot, the band’s music–especially from its early years–is kept in the local airspace courtesy of KJEE radio play.
Still, there’s nothing quite like the power and well-crafted riff ‘n’ hook energy of seeing and hearing the band live, especially in a venue as ideal as the Bowl. The concert had added emotional urgency given the current pivotal juncture in Foo history. The tragic death last year of incomparable drummer Taylor Hawkins–one of the greats in modern rock history—threw the group into a tailspin of mourning and redefinition.
They are coming out the other side with a strong new album But Here We Are and follow-up tour, and a suitably powerhouse new drummer, Josh Freese (hired away from Devo). All eyes and ears, not to mention overhead cam shots, we’re on the drummer, who seem to pass all our internal auditioning instincts, despite missing that signature Hawkins sound.
As if to assert its roots with a rawer punk cred of the band’s musicians (including guitarist Pat Smear of the Germs fame), the recent concert’s opening slot was handed over to the Sonic Youth-ish power trio known as Julie. Julie delivered a refreshingly raucous and noisy set, the likes of which are rarely heard at the Bowl, dishing up a heap of cathartic wow.
And so, in its more organized way, did the Foo Fighters, coming on confidently from the outset and delivering a career-thus-far spanning set list. Faves including “Times Like These,” “Monkey Wrench” and “Aurora” sprang to life, live.
At various intervals during the show, Grohl made joking references to his honorary Santa Barbara connections, as when he introduced drummer Freese as having played in famed local rock bands Toad the Wet Sprocket and Ugly Kid Joe (just kidding) and winkingly suggested “fuck Vegas—we’ll do a residency here!”
On a more serious note, on the band’s potent new album–one of their best and the first since Hawkins’s death–the last 15 minutes has to be one of the most poignant stretches of any rock record this year. The two-part, 10-minute epic “The Teacher” deals with Hawkins’s tragic and sudden death while on tour, reiterating a chant-like incantation opening with “you showed me how to breathe, never showed me how to say goodbye,” as if in loose relation in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. The album’s finale, “Rest,” is an eloquent requiem, done up in the band’s trademark rising and falling dynamics conveying a dreamy, gentle farewell.
Tucked into the Bowl set were such ready-to-rock new songs as “Under You” and “Rescued,” but the emotional highlight, to these ears, came late in the show, when they launched into the epic and personally meaningful “The Teacher,” in all its 10-minute glory and condolences to a lost friend and ally. During that penultimate tune, the hit-hungry contingent in the crowd seemed distracted but were then rocked to stand-up-and-dance attention with an old Foo favorite, “Everlong,” to close the show.
Grohl and gang represent one of those evergreen rock legends, as a band which has perfected its own homebrew of post-punk/grunge ferocity and tight, polished and hooky tunes. Grohl’s voice oscillates between clarity and just the right amount of a raspy howl, on songs that often bank on extreme dynamic shifts.
Not too surprisingly, the Foo both exuded a sense of cathartic, play-all-night rock energy and showbiz responsibility. In what may be a Bowl first (at least in my decades of visiting this hallowed space), after the final note of “Everlong,” Grohl ran over to the timekeeping digital clock in the wings and proudly showed the crowd that the band had ended exactly at the Bowl’s routine 10 p.m. curfew.
Stay tuned to this space for updates on the band’s Bowl residency. Just kidding. We think.
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