X-Ray 2003
Poolside in an art deco hotel seems a curious
place to meet Grohl, the eternal ethical rock kid.
Yet after the band ditched his Virginia home
studio and decided to make another stab at their
tortured fourth album, they came straight here.
Now it's starting to feel so much like home, Grohl
is planning on putting down permanent roots.
  "There are things about Los Angeles that I like
now," he says, sipping his iced tea. "I've just
discovered neighbourhoods, whereas before it
was this swingin' singles fuckin' tequila party
every night. And my sister lives here now, so I
have family here. Just through mellowing myself,
it seems Los Angeles has mellowed as well."
  This mellowing isn't immediately apparent. If a
healthy handsomeness overrides the goofy
shadow of his teen self, he still looks like he
should have been moulded out of springs and
latex, prone to bursts of sudden air-drumming
and enthusiastically grisly conversations about
tattoo maintenance. "You should wash off the
slime - that's the haemoglobin or something -
wipe them down with Listerine and man, in three
days they've healed," he says excitedly, jabbing
at his own beautifully inked arms. He's not
gearing up for a sober middle age.
"I used to say we'd stop when I
turned 33, but I might have to file for
an extension. I only have four months
left of being 33," He laughs. "I've never
been good with deadlines."
What would you do, though? Isn't this your life?
"I can imagine a thousand things,"
he says emphatically. "Raising a family,
starting a music school, building a
studio, producing other bands, scoring
films, learning to make furniture or
learning to work on old cars. But
musicians never really stop making
music. There are very few who break
up their band and sell their guitar."
Grohl has mapped out his entire
adult life in bands - the rugged
hardcore of DC heroes Scream, the
extreme terrain of Nirvana, the
apparently solid ground of Foo
Fighters - and now, well into his
second decade of musicianship, he
finds his stock at an all-time high.
Yet with One By One, the Foo Fighters'
tremendous fourth album, ready to go
and tickets for the world tour waiting at
the travel agents', Grohl is strangely
bewildered by the surge of attention.
  "I'm surprised at the response
we're getting - in England, especially,"
he muses. "I just never imagined it
getting to that point. Having it happen
later rather than sooner is surprising to
me. The fact we're doing this arena
tour that's sold out is a surprise.
Because I've always felt that this band
would remain in its own comfortable
corner for ever."
  It's not just this new flood of
attention that has threatened the Foo
Fighters' "comfortable corner". The
past eighteen months has been rife
with the kind of trouble that seemed to
belong to another band altogether,
trouble that started when the
exuberant Hawkins - Grohl's blond double, "Dave Lee Roth trying to
get out" - overdosed after V2001.
  "For a band that's been so glamour
and drama-free, for something like that
to happen was a shock," Dave says, his
uncommonly linear sentences
suddenly disintegrating. "All of my...all
of my...I don't know how to explain
it...to me it just had nothing to do with
the band. I didn't think it was a result of
the band. I just remember saying that
day, 'for right now, our band doesn't
exist and I don't want to talk to anyone
about any band things at all'. And we
didn't. We just wanted things to
happen naturally and not force it."
  Despite their best intentions,
however, the early sessions for One By
One left them cold. They were too
clean, too contained, with too many
singles for these die-hard rock kids to bear. When Grohl
got the call to tour with his old friends and new rock kings
Queens Of The Stone Age, he jumped at the chance - "It
was absolutely the right thing to do," he states gravely. Not
only did it allow him the chance to play with the only band
that had moved him to a drumkit for eight years, but it
provided a chance to claw back some perspective.
Ironically, the rest of Planet Rock's perspective collapsed as
panicky rumours about the Foos' demise grew. Grohl had
scrapped the sessions, people said, deserted his band -
surely it was all over. Yet Grohl's desire to be seen primarily
as a musician has always meant he's happy to throw his car
keys into the rock'n'roll swingers' bowl- not only has he
collaborated with the Queens, Tenacious D, and Bowie, he's
also a generous mentor to new bands: Andrew WK, The
Datsuns, Cave In. Yet this time, his gleefully open
relationship was seen as terminal rock infidelity.
  "I had no idea anyone was concerned," Dave smiles,
clinking the cubes in his glass. "Hearing the rumours about
the demise of the band, we'd had no idea people were
paying attention. We come home from being on the road
and we feel like we just disappear. Unless we're on tour in
front of people, it just doesn't seem like it matters."
Yet it did matter as at last, people seemed to realise what
they risked losing. "People just consider our band reliable,
in a way. Or just like a friend you always call on if you need
one," he says. "I really consider myself a pretty regular
person, and people expect me to be a focal point to the
band, but I'm a pretty bland one. I enjoy making music but
fuck, would you rather go and see our band or Queen? I
think I'd rather go and see Queen!"
  You're really selling yourselves...
"I've always been that way," he laughs. "I have a hard
time taking compliments, and I've always made fun of
myself from the time I was fucking I2-years-old."
Grohl isn't saying anything that his detractors haven't
already muttered, yet the key to Foo Fighters always
seemed to be the idea of a safe space after the chaos that
surrounded Nirvana, the idea of a band who were
straightforward almost to a fault.
  "Well, I look at what happened in Nirvana and I look at
the quote unquote 'legacy' and it seems a little warped to
me," Grohl says. "People don't necessarily consider Nirvana
a band, they almost consider us some sort of political
movement. And they don't consider Kurt a human being,
they consider him an image or an idol.
Which to me is not how it was, of
course. I remember being in Nirvana
as being in a band, just like my band
before that, or the band before that....
Of course, it was the most special
experience I've ever had musically, so
maybe the self-deprecating attitude of
Foo Fighters is a response to that.
Because we're out to convince people
that bands are just bands. That music
can be made by human beings."
This humanity was threatened by
the legal battle between Groh! and
Nirvana bassist Krist Noveselic and
Courtney Love for control of Nirvana's
back catalogue. Now settled with a box
set prontised for the end of the year, it
all seems as far away from Nirvana's
point of origin as the moon.
  "In the ten years that I've been
dealing with big corporate business, I
never experienced anything like that,"
he says evenly. ., America is the land of
litigation; everyone's so quick to sue
everyone else. It's a pretty good
indication of where people's hearts are
at. Fortunately I had Foo Fighters or
Queens Of The Stone Age to make me
feel like life was worth living. I'd hate
to get stuck in the quicksand of 1994;
it's something I've been trying to work
past for a long time. So there were
times I'd get angry and times when it
didn't matter to me who ran the
fucking cash register because my
contribution had already been made.
Playing music, making those albums -
that lasts forever, you know? Longer
than any CEO will ever live. But at the
same time, it was very important that I
be involved, because I have to
represent the band somehow. But
things have moved in a very positive
direction, which I'm happy for. It's not
how I like to spend my time or money.
The last person you want to give your
money to is a fucking lawyer."
  Given the tension of the past year,
it's unsurprising that "screaming my
balls of" has become a favourite
Grohl phrase to describe One By One.
The slingshot riffs of 'All My Life' or howled ennui of
'Disenchanted Lullaby' might sound furious, but lyrically, the
record largely directs its passion into love, lust and creeping
maturity rather than the bratty squall of nu-metal angst.
There's talk of wedding rings on 'Disenchanted Lullaby',
while the reach-for-the-sky catharsis of' All My Life' and the
commitment ceremony promise of 'Tired Of You' indicate a
more settled perspective.
Are there new responsibilities on Dave's mind?
  "I've been in a time warp for the last ten years:' he says
"It's hard to grow up when you don't have to. I don't
necessarily act like I'm 22 any more, but I think at some
point it's almost instinctive; there are certain things in life
you crave, whether it's normalcy or domesticity. That's
foreign to me.
"When I was a kid, I didn't want to go to college, because
l knew there were other ways of making it. My ambition was
never to become a fucking young urban professional with a
beautiful car and a beautiful wife and a beautiful family. I
thought, 'I can just about do anything I want and get by. I'm
not an idiot - I'll figure it out: My father wasn't too into that
idea.. ." Momentarily, he morphs into the long-haired teen
rebel. "That's why I left high school - I knew that in ten years,
I wouldn't be using much trigonometry"
How about that old parental classic of "something to fall
back on"?
  "I'd always worked in furniture warehouses or newspaper
plants, just blue-collar shit, So I always knew that was there.
I always knew music might not support me but it would keep
me happy. And really having been raised with very little, I
never knew what much meant" He laughs. "I don't live much
differently than I did when I was 20 years old - other than
that I can pay the rent and I quit smoking pot"
What's your idea of luxury?
  "Luxury, to me, is sleeping in the same bed for more than
two and half weeks at a time. Luxury to me is stability"
At last, it looks like the Foo Fighters might have gained
that stability for the long-term. Ask Dave Grohl what he's
most proud of in his career and his answer is instant.
"I'm most proud that I've remained close to my family
and friends, and none of this stuff has ever made me felt
alienated from them" says the man who played on
Nevermind, powered Songs For The Deaf and has a brand-
new, brilliant Foo Fighters album under his low-slung belt.
"I've just always remained intact. I've never got fucked up on
drugs or got into such a bad place I felt trapped and
couldn't get out.lt's not rocket science - anybody can do this
- but I'm proud that I've survived this long. And surprised, a
lot of people might have bowed out before now. Yup, that's
my greatest accomplishment," he grins, mocking himself again.
"Not going away."
Words:Victoria Segal