My friends saved my life
Not literally. My friends gave me life. I know they played a starring role in helping me become who I am today. 7-11th grade for me was rough. I am sure you have experienced bullying in some form. Mine was experienced pretty loudly. Junior high was the lowest. I was lonely, undersized, attacked on a school bus, beat up down the street from my house, and rode my bike to school during Chicagoland winters to avoid who was riding the bus. High School was easier to hide in. By my junior year, I had found my guys.
But it was College where I found my chosen family. My first week, I met the friends that would give me permission to be myself. Without judgement. I could be silly or serious, loud or quiet. Unreasonable or sane. We never fought. We had each others backs. We never got in trouble. We learned. We grew. They were so easy for me to be around. Before that, I didn’t know any of that was possible. My guard was always up. My head always on a swivel. Hiding from the bad, not seeking the good.
Stories of friendship in movies or in real life deeply resonate with me. For example, in the Shawshank Redemption when Red says, “I miss my friend” after Andy escapes, I FEEL that to my core. Or the relationship between Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins. I KNOW that relationship. I HAVE that relationship. It’s rare and pure and beautiful.
When Taylor died in March of 2022, it hit me like a sledge. My heart was broken for Dave. Losing a soulmate like that leaves a hole that cannot be filled.
I wanted to write about the Taylor Hawkins tribute concert in Wembley. Specifically the set the Foo Fighters played to close the event. The entire day was emotional.
The event was a 6-hour tribute to Taylor showcasing a lineup that was legendary. They ripped the roof off of the rock and roll hall of fame, grabbed the bands, and threw them in Wembley. Dave played all day with artists. He played drums, bass guitar, and rhythm guitar and he would’ve played the spoons if given a chance.
The moment came for the Foo Fighters to close the show. It’s a moment I didn’t know would ever happen after Taylor died. When he passed, I had doubts that the band would ever grace a stage again. I couldn’t imagine seeing Dave without Taylor behind the kit. They had become musically intertwined. Like Keith and Mick. Stephen Tyler and Joe Perry. Plant and Page. Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. Stephen Spielberg and John Williams.
Yet here it was. I had a haunting feeling that they would open with “Times Like These”. A song whose lyrics grace the wall in my office. A song that has been used most recently as a celebration as we were recovering from the pandemic. They reopened Madison Square Garden in late 2020 and opened with this song. 20000 people sharing a collective release in celebrating the return of live music. It was cathartic.
Dave has always believed in the power of music. The sound that humans can make together in harmony and imperfect glory. The power to heal, the power to connect and the power to create. It was the one thought that gave me hope that we might see them perform again.
Now, here he stands. With a beam of light illuminating him in front of 90,000 strong. His blue Gibson hangs around his neck. He takes a deep breath and bravely starts the song alone. No drums. No guitars. Just his voice and his broken heart.
“I, I’m a one-way motorway
I’m the one that drives away
Then follows you back home
I, I’m a streetlight shining
I’m a wild light blinding bright
Burning off and on
Ah-ah-ahh”
“It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again”
“I, am a new day rising”…
……
……
His voice is, shaking and trembling.
“I’m a brand new sky to hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?”
Dave barely gets the last words out. They exit in a quiet shaking whisper. He backs slightly away from the microphone, shaking his head. The grief is redlining at 100%. He wants to leave. He misses his friend. He’s standing there like an exposed nerve in a windstorm, forehead resting on the microphone. Are the words he’s written and sung a thousand times true? Do we, In times like these really learn to live again?
And then, 90,000 people, fighting through their own tears, dig deep to help the man who has given them strength when they needed it over the past 26 years. A thunderous wave of cheers laced with love, support, and grief comes rushing from the back row 1/2 mile away. They crash down on the stage and envelop him in a deafening sonic embrace.
He steps up, encouraged by the 90,000, and somehow gets through the chorus through the tears and the quivering vocals.
“It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again”
He quickly gets the fuck away from that microphone as fast as he can as 4 guitars and drums explode in an effort to be louder than the grief. It’s time to heal through volume. He screams his way through the rest of the song, encouraging the masses to help him through it.
That moment was one I will never forget. I have never seen anyone so vulnerable in my life. It was too much for me. My daughter had to come over to console me. I still can’t think of it without a very intense feeling joining me.
The set list from there was built to burn a lot of fuel very fast. They played All My Life and Monkey Wrench next which are two of their fastest and most athletic songs. Songs to get lost in. Songs that allowed for yelling at the top of your lungs for 10 minutes. Something everyone needed to do.
Their songs sounded a little different, and some took on entirely different meanings. I was stunned to hear them take on “These Days”.
“One of these days the ground will drop out from beneath your feet
One of these days your heart will stop and play its final beat
One of these days the clocks will stop and time won’t mean a thing
One of these days their bombs will drop and silence everything”
Not a dry eye in the house.
They played one of my all-time favorites which Dave said was Taylor’s favorite, “Aurora”. A delicate number that was on their 3rd album when the Foo Fighters recorded as a 3 piece band and won the grammy for best album.
“Take me now, we can spin the sun around
And the stars will all come out
Then we’ll turn and come back down
Turn and come back down”
It was a revolving door of drummers filling Taylor’s void and they all did him proud. None more so than the night’s final drummer. Shane Hawkins, Taylors’ 14-year-old son came out and played drums on the song “My Hero”. You couldn’t dream up a more emotional scene. Shane played as hard as I have ever seen anyone play the drums. This includes the first time I saw Dave playing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on MTV and I gasped, “Who is that guy destroying those poor drums back there?”
“There goes my hero
Watch him as he goes
There goes my hero
He’s ordinary”
Dave closed the show the way he started it. It was him and his guitar. The rest of the band exited the stage. He was empty. Done purging whatever demons he had to purge this night to try and heal. He thanked the crowd for giving them so much love and said there wasn’t anything left to say. But there was one more thing to say.
The opening chords of Everlong rang out. No drummer behind the kit. Taylor was replaced by 90,000 fans who drummed for him, becoming an integral part of this closing number.
“If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I’ll ever ask of you
You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when”
Thank you to my boyz, for helping me, find me.