He is first-generation grunge, from the trio that defined the genre. He was born in the Sixties, an age he still inhabits daily in his heart. He fronts the most decorated, reliable, universally-revered band of the modern era, and has launched or boosted the careers of countless Millennial bands and artists. He embraces the values the Millennials question – home, hearth, marriage, kids – and yet he has their undying love and respect. He is the one musician born beyond classic rock who commands the respect and affection of all living generations of rock.
Dave Grohl.
“He is the most all-American of all all-American rock stars,” wrote Daniel Martin of NME. “And the good part of America is a place built on a Protestant work ethic and values of trust, reliability and graft, like the lumberjacks, whose keyword – in this old America that probably never even existed – is honour. Everybody loves Dave because he’s rock’s most honourable man. Uncle Dave, always on hand to bring some good out of the demise of your generation’s greatest band, always willing to kick-start your career with a guest spot behind the drum stool, always ready with a toothy reassurance of the redemptive power of rock ’n’ roll.
“This all-encompassing good blokedom, though, has always manifested itself as an accessory to the genius of others; there’s never been much danger of Grohl walking the highwire of dangerous genius while fronting his own, all-American, workmanlike rock band. He’s been in one of those bands before, remember, and it ended in misery and suicide.
“And as Dave told NME a few weeks ago, it was never part of the Foo Fighters game plan to end up in Planet Rock’s premier league, either. In Dave’s head this is the same band that began as the few demos that he threw together while bored in the fall-out from Nirvana. Over the years, the line-up has stabilised into guitarist Chris Shiflett, bassist Nate Mendel and, of course, everybody’s favourite peroxide party lieutenant, Taylor Hawkins on drums. Sure, they’ve happened upon a few pan-generational anthems along the way, the best of which being ‘Everlong’ from 1997’s ‘The Colour And The Shape’, a song so preternaturally uplifting that I want it at my wedding and funeral. But Dave remains fully aware that his place in history remains as a drummer, proved post-Nirvana by electrifying stints with Queens of the Stone Age, Garbage and Nine Inch Nails. Both of those factors have meant the guy has become a demigod; and when he found himself headlining Reading for the second time, it forced a rethink.
“‘It was amazing how popular we’d become. We’d reached a level and it meant something,’ he said. In other words, Dave’s decided he wants a piece of the pie in his own right. And who on God’s earth could blame him?”
But this is just the musician. While it’s true you can’t really separate Dave Grohl the Musician from Dave Grohl the Guy, it’s as much the latter as the former who endears him to the Millennial generation.
Like the Millennials, Grohl eschews hard drugs; a drink is just fine with him. Like the Millennials, he likes it loud. Like the Millennials, he leaves it all on the field, and isn’t shy with his words or his feelings. He embraces feminism, equality, and social justice, just as they do, and energetically supports like-valued politicians while standing strong against those who aren’t. He’s Bernie Sanders, but only half as old and he wasn’t dressed by his mother.
Unlike the Millennials, who are hesitant to marry, let alone start families – Grohl embraced both marriage and fatherhood, becoming a devoted husband and daddy in the shadow of his stellar career. Few world-class rock stars have managed such a balancing act; Grohl has done it without breaking stride. He manages to embody the most nurturing values of all generations in living memory while providing, in true Springsteen fashion, the backbone of rock in turbulent times.
And he’s managed to remain a nice guy in the process. He’s beloved, not only by his fans, but by his peers across the generations – as the three stories that follow, stories from his memoir The Storyteller, warmly demonstrate…
More than a rock star, more than a musician, Dave Grohl identifies first and foremost as… a daddy. He adores his three daughters Violet, Harper, and Ophelia, doting on them endlessly. He has raised them right, filling their lives with music – and everything else that makes for happy, well-adjusted kids, like books and long walks and family adventures to far-away places.
This first story ties together past, present, and future – his classic rock roots, his innocuous family life, and his hopes for his daughters. He tells this one himself, from the book:
“A few days after we brought [the newborn Ophelia] home, we invited Paul McCartney and his wife Nancy over to the house to see the baby,” he wrote. “This was a monumental occasion for more than a million reasons, but I did notice one thing that would stick with me forever. Violet and Harper obviously knew that Paul was a musician in a band called the Beatles but at their tender ages had no idea what that meant in the pantheon of music history. To them, Paul was just our musician friend Paul, and I saw that when those mythical preconceptions are taken away, there is a purity of spirit, an unconditional love. I, of course, spent the hour before his arrival hiding the mountains of Beatles stuff I had in the house (you never know how much Beatles memorabilia you have until a Beatle comes to visit), but the kids were without any inflated sense of who he really was.
“As they were leaving and we were saying our goodbyes, Paul noticed the piano down the hall and couldn’t resist,” Grohl continued. “He sat down and started playing ‘Lady Madonna’ as I stood in shock, hearing a voice the world adores echo throughout my own house, now filled with my own family. Harper disappeared for a moment and returned with a coffee cup that she had filled with spare change and placed it on the piano as a tip jar for Sir Paul. We fell about the room laughing, and he invited her to sit on the bench next to him for a piano lesson, her first. He showed her the keys, and which note each one was, and they began to play together while Paul sang, We’re playing a song… we’re playing a song…
“The next morning as I was making breakfast in the kitchen, I heard the piano again, that same melody that Paul and Harper had played the night before. I peeked around the corner and saw Harper by herself on the bench, her tiny hands playing those same chords in perfect time, and I knew exactly what she was feeling: inspired by Paul. Because I had once felt the same…”
Then there was the time on tour when Grohl and his girls Violet and Harper were shopping at Harrod’s in London, perusing the toy department. The girls homed in on the Barbie dolls, each choosing one that suited them. Grohl couldn’t help but notice the official Joan Jett Barbie, “complete with red Converse Chucks, leather pants, a sleeveless black T-shirt, and a white Gibson Les Paul Junior guitar slung around her shoulder. Holy shit, I thought. I’m definitely buying this!”
When the girls later asked if they could play with Joan, he called up a YouTube of the real thing, “a feminist icon who proved to the world that women can rock even harder than men.
“I opened up my laptop, turned the volume up to ten, and played them the ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ video. They stood in amazement, transfixed by Joan’s swagger and sneer, and were singing along word for word by the final chorus.”
The tour proceeded to Madison Square Garden, where the tour manager asked Grohl if they wanted to invite any special guests to perform. Joan Jett’s name came up. Lo and behold, Foo Fighters guitarist Pat Smear knew her. A call was made, and Joan Jett appeared at MSG to join the Foo Fighters on stage that night.
After the show, she mentioned to Grohl that “we should write some songs together!” Grohl didn’t have to be asked twice; they found a weekend on the calendar when she could visit his home in Los Angeles and spend some time songwriting.
“Okay, guys,” Grohl told Violet and Harper, “remember that Barbie I bought in London? She’s coming to stay with us this weekend.”
They were stunned into silence.
“So, when she gets here… don’t freak out… she’s real…”
And soon, there she stood, the Queen of Rock and Roll, at the foot of the Grohl family’s living room couch.
“Hey, Harper… hey, Violet… what’s goin’ on?”
They were stunned into silence.
After a day of songwriting, Grohl was putting the girls to bed, and after Harper had been tucked in, Violet asked if she could say goodnight to Joan. Grohl carried her back downstairs, where she exchanged goodnights with the smiling rock legend.
She then whispered in her daddy’s ear: “Will you ask Joan if she’ll read me bedtime stories tonight?” Mortified, Grohl had no choice but to repeat the request. Joan smiled and walked up the stairs with Violet, hand in hand. Grohl watched them go, hoping his daughter would never forget this night.
“For, in a world full of Barbies, every girl needs a Joan Jett…”
Finally, there was Violet, ‘Blackbird’, and the Academy Awards.
This story – again from The Storyteller – starts with his daughter Violet coming home from school to announce Student Entertainment day at her school. She was giddy over her plans to perform “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” with her besties.
Having made sure she got plenty of daily Beatles growing up, Grohl couldn’t have been more proud: he praised and encouraged this plan, as Violet ran off to call her besties and plan their rehearsals.
She came back to her daddy in tears. To the last, her besties had all responded, “Sgt. Who?”
Grohl thought quickly.
“How about you and me play something?” he suggested. “We could do ‘Blackbird’ – you sing, and I’ll play guitar.”
Violet brightened immediately, thrilled with the idea. They practiced every morning and every night until the day of the show.
“I began the delicate guitar intro, reminding myself that this was, without question, the most important performance of my life, and hers as well,” Grohl wrote in Storyteller. “As usual, she came in perfectly on time, perfectly in tune, and I looked out at the audience’s faces as their collective jaws began to drop. Her innocent, crystalline voice filled the PA, and the room was stunned. I could only smile, knowing that they were finally meeting the Violet I knew so well. As the last chord rang out, we were met with thunderous applause and a standing ovation. We took a bow, high-fived, and left the stage to the next performer. ‘You nailed it, Boo!’ I said, giving her a hug.
“My heart was filled with pride. Not just pride in Violet’s musical ability, but pride in her courage.”
The following year, John Silva called Grohl to inform him that the Academy Awards wanted him to perform ‘Blackbird’ live, during the In Memoriam portion of the broadcast (that’s when tribute is paid to all the artist who have passed during the previous year). Grohl was both flattered and intimidated – more the latter than the former.
The guitar part of ‘Blackbird’ isn’t oppressively difficult, but neither is it a piece of cake. There are a thousand spots to mess it up, and to sing it while playing it – “Very different from playing to an arena full of Foo fans.”
The thought of all eyes on him, with the nation watching on TV, all by himself with no band behind him, playing something as intricate and subtle as ‘Blackbird’ had Grohl resolved to say no: “I didn’t need to play the Oscars…”
Violet came home from school that day, and he mentioned that he’d been asked to sing ‘Blackbird’ on the Oscars.
“Well?” she replied, “You’re gonna do it, right? I mean… you did it at the Student Entertainment Day!”
That was it. The daddy in him kicked in. It was now impossible not to sing ‘Blackbird’ at the Oscars.
Braving wardrobe, Fort Knox-level security, in-ear monitors and a click track, on top of all the anxiety he was already feeling, Grohl went out on stage, sat down in the chair that was waiting for him, and played ‘Blackbird’ – but he wasn’t alone, as he’d planned to be; the orchestra played along with him (hence the click track). Images of David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Leonard Nimoy and others flowed across the screen as he immersed the audience in Paul McCartney’s gentle hymn.
As he played, “I saw Violet. I saw her first steps as a baby. I saw her first day at school, waving goodbye to me in the distance. I saw her peddling away on a bicycle for the first time, no longer needing the assistance of her doting father. And I saw her onstage, singing ‘Blackbird’ in the school gymnasium…”
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