THE TAO OF
Grohl sighs. “Most people just assume that any song I’ve written about loss or death or anger is about Kurt or Courtney. But I’ve been surrounded by musicians for 20 fucking years; there’s a lot of people that have gone that direction.” Still, he can’t seem to shake that You Tube image. “He couldn’t fully experience the joy of life,” he says softly. “And I’m at that point now where I can.”
He appears dour for a moment. But then he looks over at Violet, busts out one of his famously toothy grins, and scoops her up. And it’s at this point—with Grohl and his daughter giggling madly, off to pursue some new adventure—that it becomes clear why the ghost of Kurt Cobain has been skulking around of late. It has nothing to do with the burden of living up to his creative genius or even his loss as a friend. It’s the simple and horrifying fact that Cobain was, at the time of his death, the father of a young girl almost exactly Violet’s age.
With music retailers going under left and right, Grohl knows that Wal-Mart is just about the only game in most towns. “Anything that has to do with promoting the music through a chain that will sell albums we kind of feel okay about,” he says, sounding only half convinced. “I mean, we’ve had Ford come to us and say, ‘We want “Times Like These” for this commercial,’ and everybody’s begging us: ‘It’ll be a million dollars! It’ll be huge!’ But that creeps me out.”
Chris Shiflett hates a lot of things about the
San Fernando Valley: the broiling climate, the
grueling commute. But at the moment, he’s
piqued by his inability to find a restaurant
Upstairs at Foo HQ, Mendel, 38, is open on a Tuesday morning.
waiting for a haircut and stewing. For the past ten minutes, he’s been wheel-
Today’s big assignment is record- ing his hybrid SUV—“I bought it so I can be a
ing footage that will be shown at guilt-free fucking jerk and drive around L.A.”— through an endless maze of
Wal-Marts nationwide, as well strip malls. He stops at a California Chicken Cafe. Closed. Baja Fresh. Closed.
as bonus downloads that will be Delicious Bakery. Sorry. “We could go to Starbucks,” Shiflett says finally, with
available with the new album an air of surrender. “They’ll have a fucking muffin or something.”
exclusively at the retail giant’s online Shiflett, 36, whose bantam build and baby blues lend him a passing resem-
store. “Everybody knows that the blance to Roger Daltrey, is hoping to slam some calories before a mandatory
way Wal-Mart runs is bad for small rehearsal at 11. “Right now we’re in that weird place where we’ve made this
businesses, small towns, bad for the new album and we don’t know how to play it yet,” he notes between bites of ham-
working class.” Mendel shakes his and-egg sandwich. “I looked at the set list, and I’m like, ‘Whoa. Don’t know how
head. “I’m definitely conflicted about doing this thing.” to play that one or that one, and, oh, that one we don’t have down either.’ ”
Downstairs, Hawkins, 35, offers a more blunt assessment: “It’s hard to sell The pressure is magnified, in this case, because the Foos are slated to play
records these days, man. Gotta suck some corporate cock.” a live set at MTV’s Video Music Awards in four days that includes—at Grohl’s
Grohl’s rationalizations are a bit more nuanced. Like Mendel, he cut his teeth friendly insistence—guest appearances by half the musicians he’s ever played
in the hardcore punk scene of the ’80s. “We both still feel like our inspiration with and songs such as the Dead Kennedys’ “Holiday in Cambodia.”
is rooted in that. But it’s kind of a different ball game now.” T his is actually the exciting part, Shiflett notes. “Is it a rush to play ‘Learn
to Fly’ every night? Not really. It’s
fucking boring. But you have to play
it, because that’s what people who
The whole Fookin’
family performing are paying money want to see.”
in New York, When Shiflett joined the Foos eight
September
20, 2007 years ago, he was a bachelor, thrilled
at his sudden access to, well, let’s call
them the fringe benefits of stardom.
Today, he’s the ranking dad of the
band, with four-year-old Liam and
one-year-old Dashiell.
“There’s never dull a moment at my house, believe me,” he says. “Going on tour used to be like work…and coming home was like downtime. Now it’s the exact opposite.” Shiflett is even considering trading in the SUV for—the very word seems to cause him physical pain—a minivan.
But for the most part, he’s made his peace with the rock star/daddy duality. There are, after all, points of overlap. “My oldest boy comes to shows. He’s obsessed with rock music in general and Foo Fighters in particular,” he says, adding with a grin: “He knows our new album better than I do.”
SOMETIMES
GROWING
UP MEANS
BEING A GIANT
HYPOCRITE, AND
THAT’S OKAY
ERIC NOWELS
References:
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