“Nirvana’s drummer,”
“Dave used to be in Nirvana,”
“Nirvana this,”
“Nirvana that,”
“Nirvana.”
“Nirvana.”
That Dave has largely managed to escape this is to his credit.
It wasn't until about six months ago that the band belatedly caught my interest. Much to my pertetual disdain, Radio 1 is usually the aural wallpaper of choice in my lab. I struggle to tune it out, and it's one of the main reasons I bought an iPod. But a particular song grabbed my attention... I kept listening, and the DJ said it was All My Life by the Foo Fighters. Then I heard and instantly rated DOA, and bought In Your Honour. Finally, I realised there might be something to love behind the hype.
Those who know me, know my usual gig-going MO is to arrive early at the venue, and queue to get as close to the front as I can. There are those who think I should be old enough to know better; but as far as I’m concerned, the pros (great view, a barrier to hold on to, and being within reach of the water usually handed out by security) greatly outweigh the cons (potential sunburn/hypothermia, depending on the season, and looking like a tit). Having never seen the band before, I had no idea if they would be worth enduring the near-freezing temperatures and perpetual drizzle. I wimped out.
By the time I got onto the arena floor, the second support band (Supergrass) were finishing up, and I let out a heavy sigh at the very depressing sight of thousands of people in front of me. I started snaking my way through the crowd… the closest I could reasonably get was around 20 rows of people from the front. My heart sank, as I wondered what a Foo crowd would be like, and whether I’d be able to get through them.
AC/DC was blasting over the sound system, and the mood was expectant. An excitable, disgustingly good-looking guy was chatting to me about the band. Anyone with any self-esteem may have thought he was flirting. I should have been happy, but couldn’t help wondering what drugs he was on that he’d waste time talking to me. I saw a small opening in the crowd, smiled goodbye and got a few feet closer to the front.
The lights dimmed, the stage lights went up, and the surge forward started. They opened with In Your Honour, then launched into All My Life, which was the cue for the crowd to go completely apeshit.
By the end of the song, I’d slammed my way to the second row of bouncing bodies, much to the irritation of the guy immediately behind me. He seemed to think jumping up and down while deliberately and repeatedly hitting me over the head with his elbow was going to make me move. Before I could do anything about him, one of the huge security guys saw what he was doing, got up on the barrier step, lent over and menacingly growled, “oi! Stop it…” I managed to look like a grateful, wronged party, and didn’t laugh until he’d looked away. It was the last I felt of him.
Dave worked the crowd well, and I smiled as he said, "ahhh... and this is the part where I'm supposed to say you're the best crowd on the tour..." His wording was not lost on me, old and jaded as I am... but about two-thirds of the audience were screaming, like "oohhhhh... Dave just said we're the best!" Involuntarily, my eyeballs rolled.
The gig was fantastic, and the crowd around me were amazing. Though I was left with a nagging suspicion that I would have enjoyed the show even more if I knew the band's older material. But I left feeling high, sweaty and physically drained… all the tell-tale signs of a great night out.
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