Foo Fighters – But Here We Are

Hard Rock | Alternative Rock

85%

 

Much as anyone with even half a heart loves Foo Fighters, I think we can all agree their last couple of albums haven’t exactly set the world on fire. Medicine At Midnight and Concrete And Gold were both wholly forgettable affairs. The Foos are probably one of only a handful of modern acts that can afford to put out a couple of albums that barely garner a ripple of interest, lacking any staying power whatsoever, and yet still never have their status as a beloved band falter for even an instant. If the band can afford to rest on their laurels when it comes to studio albums, and still sell out stadiums the world over, then I certainly can’t begrudge them for doing so, especially given how electric those live shows are.

It’s still a little sad though that the band’s output in recent years has had little to show in terms of urgency, emotion or innovation. I had resigned myself to this half-hearted incarnation of the band, until I heard the towering tour de force that is But Here We Are. A spiritual rock’n’roll experience in a way only they can muster, an ineffably life-affirming record, a triumph up there with 2011’s seminal Wasting Light as their best work. Naturally I just wish this re-invigoration didn’t have to arrive in the wake of such immense tragedy.

This record of course lies in the shadow of grief; in the band’s very public outpouring of love for their dear departed brother Taylor Hawkins, as well as Dave Grohl’s more private shouldering of the loss of his mother a short while after. Although such a well loved character as Taylor leaves behind a void that can never be filled, his presence is very much felt on this record. There’s no hiding or shying away here, the band wear their broken hearts on their sleeve right from the very first line of opening track ‘Rescued’: “It came in a flash, it came outta nowhere, It happened so fast, and then it was over“. But people mourn in different ways, and likewise the best way to honour someone’s memory is often reflected in the legacy they leave behind. We saw the band honouring Taylor with two massive tribute concerts full of rock icons, both his closest friends and biggest inspirations. You get the impression he wouldn’t have wanted to go out in any way other than the biggest fucking heart-pounding, fist in the air, sing till you’re hoarse gig possible. 

That energy carries forward into But Here We Are. It doesn’t linger in sorrow, instead it seems to follow the philosophy that with enough people singing along at the top of their lungs, then maybe he’ll be able to hear from the other side. ‘Rescued’ is a cathartic call for a shoulder to lean on. A fierce outpouring of emotion wrapped up in a more accessible way than one would have thought possible. It’s a formula we see often, especially on the first half of the record; lyrics that could tear your heart in two, that the band have somehow managed to deliver in an uplifting way. Nowhere is this more true than on the rollicking reflection of ‘Under You’. An exuberant throwback to the band’s roots, it will manage to make you sing lines like “There are times that I need someone, there are times I feel like no one, Sometimes I just don’t know what to do…” in full voice with a grin on your face, in what feels like an act of defiance against whatever lingering shadows remain.

‘Hearing Voices’ boasts a moody snaking bass groove, ‘The Glass’ builds from gentle beginnings to something larger than life, while ‘Show Me How’ deals in shimmering shoegaze, its dreamy atmosphere accentuated by some gorgeous harmonies from Dave Grohl’s daughter Violet. ‘Beyond Me’ meanwhile is an slow-burning classic rock throwback. A teary-eyed anthem, ready made for swaying crowds at the close of one of their legendary live shows. The band do venture into less familiar territory however on the 10 minute epic ‘The Teacher’, named for the profession held by Dave’s mother. Dark grungy riffs and galloping drums come in waves before ultimately giving way to a psychedelic sludge jam. As ambitious and engaging as the track is musically, the lyricism sadly falters a little here. Leaning too hard on repetition, like the words were stretched out to fill the run time. Even so, every delivery of the line “Who’s at the door now?” manages to feel more haunting than the last.

Stripped back closing track ‘Rest’ is the only time we hear the album being quiet and sombre, and even then only briefly. In that time we hear a riff which, intentionally or not, reminds me of the main chorus riff of ‘Congregation’ from 2014’s Sonic Highways. If this album is anything, it’s a congregation. A rousing church revival at the altar of rock’n’roll. A way to banish the darkness by bringing people together, having them sing in fine voice and high spirits, and calling on them to lift each other up in times of sorrow. I can think of no more noble a mark to leave upon this world than to unite people and bring them joy, and that’s what the band have immortalised here for their fallen friend.