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Foo Fighters: Dublin Olympia

It's ridiculous, hilarious and quite inspired...

There is no doubt about it, from the grunt'n'grind of Limp Bizkit to the goth'n'roll of Marilyn Manson to the nice-guy melody punk of Foo Fighters, everywhere they go, the kids wanna rock. So when the curtain rises on Dave Grohl hammering away on his own drum-kit as the rest of his band scale the volume control on a momentous build-up to 'Breakout', 15 year-old girls are piercing the air with devil's horns hand signals and screaming "C'MON MOTHERFUCKER!" Or words to that effect. But it's a great intro, no doubt about it, two drummers going at it hammer and tongs in some sort of pact with the heavy metal gods. And that's just for starters.



"I've always been of the opinion that you if wanna watch rock'n'roll and sit down at the same time, then you rent the Woodstock movie", says Dave Grohl, with playful scorn to the stiffs up in the Olympia's circle. "If you guys don't get out of your seats, I'll personally come up there and see to it myself." The audience titters, but guess what? He wasn't joking. During 'Stacked Actors', the Foos take it down to a low rumble. Grohl leaps onto a speaker at the right of the stage and proceeds to tightrope across the ledges of the theatre boxes, somehow finding his way right up onto the balcony where he is greeted by fans fainting at his feet. Some five minutes later, he's back onstage, a hero to all, back up on his drum-kit for another duel. It's ridiculous, hilarious and quite inspired.



Alas, after the righteous marriage of tune and noise that is 'Monkey Wrench', it all descends into a torturously overplayed travesty. Daft drum solos, stupid hats, bad jokes, rawk on duuuuudes. No really, Foo Fighters are taking the piss, playing the goofball card. They're all ace musicians, and this appears to give them licence to arse around, stop a song and start it up again after ten minutes of arseing around. Worse still, they begin the encore by 'attempting' to play both 'Message In A Bottle' and 'SOS', but they can't really play the tunes, they're just goofing around. Pointless bollocks.



And then there's 'This Is A Call', the glorious debut single rendered a sprawling mess, absurdly interrupted with dumb-ass drum solos and more wacky skits, when really it was meant to be a pummelling catchy-fast-catchy-fast bolt of punk-pop lightning. Most of the kids are cheering on this farce, and some of them look nonplussed and unimpressed that this is what it has come to: bad cabaret.



Leagues O'Toole

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