In 2011, I covered Pinkpop for another newspaper. It was the end of a long festival weekend: my colleague and I had already seen Coldplay, as well as Elbow and The Manic Street Preachers. It had been beautiful and it was going to rain anyway. We were tired, had written enough and needed some decent food and a shower. The Foo Fighters would shut down Pinkpop. Anyway, my colleague had seen them often enough and I didn’t think their music was special. As the first drops came down, we decided to head home.
Once at home, I opened my laptop and turned on the Pinkpop livestream for the sake of form. The Foo Fighters played for two hours as if they would never perform again. Raindrops were on the camera, the audience was soaked, numb and tired. But no one cared, because the energy and fun, the attention and enthusiasm with which the band ripped across the stage could warm the coldest bones.
The concert is still on YouTube in its entirety and is a binding viewing tip. In a way, it’s an homage to itself: a two-hour manic demonstration of the comforting and vitalizing power that live music can have. This performance turned out to be the beginning of a short-lived, but intense love for the Foo Fighters† Apparently you don’t necessarily have to like something to love it, or you don’t have to love something to like it.
A highlight is as drummer Taylor Hawkins the self-written Cold Day In The Sun sings. For a moment, not Dave Grohl is the center of attention, but Hawkins – equal parts laughter, sweat and flowing hair. He plays and sings with complete dedication. Somewhere halfway through the song, when the guitars stop for a moment and the band catches their breath for the closing piece, Dave Grohl (more sweat, more hair) stands behind Taylor and bends over him to join the microphone as the second voice. to sing. Taylor calmly continues to set the rhythm and then, in between the singing, remarks: “I feel Dave’s dick on my back’† Then Taylor rams on the drums and one more glorious, flaming guitar solo follows, which will tempt even the baldest rock hater into a careful headbanging.
When it was announced on Saturday that Taylor Hawkins had died, I immediately thought of this concert and that moment. That image of that happy, enthusiastic surf dude drummer with his ear to ear grin. To the unbridled fun, the self-mockery and the infectious positivity that the Foo Fighters, for which Taylor was so decisive, have always radiated.
‘He’s a great drummer’, Dave Grohl says about Taylor during that Pinkpop performance, just before he Cold Day In The Sun effort. ‘He is fucking awesome† And I’m glad he’s part of this band.”