Posts Tagged ‘dave grohl’

In a country bearing the scars of a turbulent, unjust past, being honest and expressive about our identity as South Africans can be a rather confusing, risky and confrontational act. It is now almost two decades into democracy, and political correctness still often pervades our discourse, or is countered with racially-charged rhetoric, presenting an uneasy middle ground where an increasing number of born-free’s are left feeling ambivalent or indifferent, wondering what all the fuss is about. And in terms of creative expression through music, large swathes of the rich history of African and South African music might seem less relevant now to a culture raised in a globalised society. So what does it then mean to have a ‘Proudly South African’ story, and does every person have one to tell?

A past as storied and segregated as our nation’s resides in an ever-shallow grave, forced to be reassessed, acknowledged and used to create a future where many of those living in it are disconnected from those revolutionary roots, and not necessarily out of ignorance. Amidst this paralysis of analysis concerning identity, simple but authentic outlets of emotion are often the best antidote, returning to the raw instincts of our nature and who we are. Former Beatle John Lennon was a famous advocate of primal therapy, which was a means for him to elicit the repressed pain of his childhood. Whilst the process of such therapy might be a bit extreme, the act of looking inward and confronting your base self is a universal route towards expressing a story that is yours and yours only.

 

John Lennon and his wife Yoko Ono both underwent primal therapy in 1970. His first post-Beatles album 'John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band' had many songs that were directly affected by his experience in therapy

John Lennon and his wife Yoko Ono both underwent primal therapy in 1970. His first post-Beatles album (‘John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band’) had many songs that were directly affected by his experience in therapy

 

Take South African super group BEAST for example. Their formation, as documented in a Benitha Vlok-directed companion film to their debut album, came from a childlike notion of two friends wanting to do the same thing and, even if it was a ludicrous idea, follow through with it. Rian Zietsman and Louis Nel (guitarist and drummer of alternative rockers Taxi Violence, respectively) both wanted to play bass in a band and assuming that role in duality, got to work on laying down some tracks (despite both never having played it before). Sasha Righini, drummer of the melodic indie rock group The Plastics, got behind the kit, and BEAST had limbered up, ready for an exploration into the dark, grimy corners of garage rock.

As with any beast, the grunts and moans of the band’s instrumental attack are its lifeblood, pumping sludgy sub-human fuel through the veins. But BEAST found its voice in Inge Beckmann, songstress of the avant-garde electronica act Lark, now appearing in a frighteningly sexy form as grungy she-devil. Her operatic feminine shrieks cut through the growling riff-fest, with simple, biting lyrics, a dynamic vocal range, and a punky attitude to boot. This back-to-basics approach removes all pretension, leaving a lean, unapologetic, minimalist monster. Whilst BEAST’s actions might speak a lot louder than its words, Beckmann’s blunt, yet evocative tales spill out over the eight-song set like gasoline over a wildfire, sparking on album-opener ‘Fill The Hole’ in brutal one-liner fashion (“Blind the lover/Kiss her mouth/Drive the dagger/Now hang yourself”), or flowing in the stream-of-consciousness effluence of ‘Walls’ (“Walls in my head vibrate when I drill holes in them/Rapidly rising rampart/Enemies are closing in”). Vivid character sketches emerge in the ominous ‘Man In Between’ and comparatively light ‘Cat Lady’, whilst ‘Hand of God’ sees her snarl apocalyptic omens with religious fervour.

 

Inge Beckmann singing Mudhoney's 'Touch Me I'm Sick' in their 'Smoke Swig Swear' short film

Inge Beckmann singing Mudhoney’s ‘Touch Me I’m Sick’ in their ‘Smoke Swig Swear’ short film

 

The song writing process was lucid, seemingly off-the-cuff, and admittedly fun. To quote Beckmann “our credo is kind of like what bands (the Seattle grunge scene in the early 90’s) were like…they weren’t that concerned with what they sounded like; they just had a good time.” It’s the sort of ethos espoused by countless jam bands, jazz collectives or freestyle rappers over the years, where groups of talented people have congregated together to see where the music takes them. Whether these sessions become a catalyst for a deeper search for meaning – that’s for the artists to decide – but the act of collaboration can be a chaotic yet honest one, with the opportunity for innovation.

BEAST’s preposterous twin-bass setup is relatively unique, especially in the South African music scene, but Zietsman and Nel have felt their way towards something that works for them, the former playing a lower, rhythm-led role akin to a normal bassist, whilst the latter employs a higher, chord-based attack. On most songs, this matrimony manifests as a churning colossus of punk-influenced metal, occasionally channelling Queens of the Stone Age’s ‘robot-rock’ style, particularly on the deliciously melodic ‘The Grape’, where interwoven mid-fi murmurings are propelled by Righini’s relentlessly powerful drumming. But overall, BEAST is left as untamed as it should be, which is not to say that substance is sacrificed for style, but rather that it does not get in the way of a rollicking ride to the heart of rock ‘n roll. Even the album title (Smoke Swig Swear) lays the band’s intentions bare, and to be honest, they don’t care how you interpret their primal urges.

 

BEAST Album Launch - 23 February 2013 - Photo by Gerhard de Kock

BEAST Album Launch – 23 February 2013 – Photo by Gerhard de Kock

 

In the keynote speech from this year’s South by Southwest (SXSW) music conference, Dave Grohl (of Nirvana and Foo Fighters fame) outlined his path to rock stardom, and how he found his voice through persistent practice and solo adventuring. He recounted a story of how he learnt at 12 years old to create his own one-man-band through the creative use of his old handheld tape recorder. The results were not revolutionary, but they were his: “To my chagrin, though, what I got was not Sgt. Peppers. Rather a collection of songs about my dog, my bike, and my dad. Nevertheless, I had done this all myself, therefore making the reward even sweeter.”

Whether you’re taking tentative steps towards greatness a ’la Grohl, or making an unrefined return to the wild as in the case of BEAST, finding your voice through music shouldn’t be fraught with concern as to how it relates to the society you’re in. Everyone has a story to tell, and perhaps without political, religious or broader social connotations, it might not be ‘Proudly South African’ (at first). But tap into your inner beast, and you can reveal a story that screams something uniquely yours. Call it “Primally South African”.

(This article is taken from the old Eagle’s Nest site, originally published on the 17th of April 2011. As the site was a part-time blog back then, this article was not necessarily written for professional purposes)

 

After fifteen years together, the Foo Fighters have not lost any of their intensity or ability to write hit songs. On the contrary, they have upped the ante, and their seventh album Wasting Light explodes out of your speakers like a bomb just got dropped about five metres away from you. It’s always hard to follow up on a huge success, especially when that success (2007’s Echoes, Silence, Patience And Grace) earned you multiple Grammy nominations and awards, including wins for Best Rock Album and Best Hard Rock Performance for the smash-hit-single ‘The Pretender’. That album was incredibly balanced and slightly experimental (by Foo Fighters’ standards), placing them at the peak of their powers. What happens afterwards?

 

Dave Grohl at the V Festival, England in 2007

Dave Grohl at the V Festival, England in 2007

 

For Wasting Light, guitarist and lead singer Dave Grohl wanted to go back to basics. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s real after you’ve gained the ability to sell out stadiums on a fairly regular basis. He has become what most people would agree to be ‘the nicest guy in rock ‘n roll’ – melding a playful, joky persona off-stage, with a rabid, earnest and powerful one on-stage. The same could be said of his band, and the style they embody: post-grunge rock mixed with pop melodies, delivered with a tireless precision. But he felt that they needed to revisit their roots, to tap into their harder, grungier influences and just rock out, old-school style. So, he converted his own garage at his house in Virginia into a studio and the band recorded the entire album using traditional analogue equipment (with only minor post-production done digitally). Former guitarist Pat Smear also re-entered the picture permanently, and they roped in former Nirvana bandmate Krist Novoselic for one track, and Nirvana’s producer Butch Vig to guide the process; and thus allowed for the closest thing to a Nirvana reunion since Kurt Cobain’s tragic death in 1994.

 

'Wasting Light' is a back-to-basics album for the band. 'Back-to-basics', though, in their terms.

‘Wasting Light’ is a back-to-basics album for the band. ‘Back-to-basics’, though, in their terms.

 

Grohl’s legacy has always been wearily-linked with Nirvana’s, and on ‘I Should’ve Known’, he pens the album’s closest attempt at a ballad, which seems to be a lament for a friend that’s killed himself. Although it doesn’t mention Kurt’s name, it may as well, with lyrics such as “I should have known that it would end this way/I should have known there was no other way/Didn’t hear your warning/Damn my heart gone deaf”. The other surviving bandmate Krist plays bass and accordion on this one, and it’s a somber, heartfelt respite from the brutal, free-wheeling chaos of the other tracks. Every song on Wasting Light is like being caught in a cross-fire of 3 ferocious guitars (with Smear back in the mix), grinding bass, vicious drumming from the ever-entertaining Taylor Hawkins, and Grohl’s distinctive growls, wails and screams. The fact that they can capture this lightning-in-a-bottle and make it accessible to mainstream fans, as well as metalheads, just boggles my mind. Album-opener ‘Bridge Burning’ makes its intentions known right off the bat: as each guitar enters the fold one-by-one, Grohl declares with gusto “These are my famous last words!”, and the ride begins with a vengeance. Cue fist-pumping and head-banging… Amidst the reverbs and distortion is a distinct sense of melody, and first single ‘Rope’ is a fine example of this element: the guitars are more chimy, the rhythm is more staccato-like, and it ends with a swirling climax that leaves you gasping for air only two tracks in. Hard luck, friend, the Foo’s are only just getting started with their aural assault on your ears. ‘Dear Rosemary’ continues in a similar vein, albeit with some brash pop harmonies and an almost cha-cha-like rock rhythm. Grohl gets the backing of Hüsker Dü’s Bob Mould in the vocals department as well, and his gravelly voice is a great influence. The album’s most surprising moment for me was the arrival of ‘White Limo’. They have sometimes considered dabbling with the idea of turning the volume dial up to 11, and going all-out heavy metal (Grohl has his own heavy metal side-project Probot, and has been in Queens Of Stone Age, known for their darker, metal tendencies), but never like this. This song delivers aggression and swagger in equal amounts, with thrashing riffs and Grohl literally snarling the vocals out, making it very difficult to pick out any of the lyrics in the cacophonic haze. It’s enough to leave you trembling afterwards in the foetal position.

 

A scene from the ridiculously-funny amateur music video of White Limo

A scene from the ridiculously-funny amateur music video of White Limo

 

‘Arlandria’ settles back into a more loud-soft dynamic, channelling a children’s nursery rhyme in some of the verses (believe it!), but still retaining that hardened edge to it. ‘These Days’ and ‘Back & Forth’ evoke the spirit of their magnificent early albums The Colour And The Shape and There’s Nothing Left To Lose: the former going for the gentle, yet booming, simplicity of ‘Learn To Fly’, whilst the latter settles in the catchy groove of something like ‘Monkey Wrench’ or ‘Breakout’, where fun and a sexy chorus are favoured over deep emotions. Both shine brightly here. ‘A Matter Of Time‘ bops along with a familiar crisp style that we’ve come to expect from the band, and this middle-of-the-road number slots neatly into the tail-end of the album. ‘Miss The Misery’ explictly goes for a chugging, mid-pace, stadium-sized roar, and sounds as if it was actually recorded on a gigantic stage in front of 80000 people. Next is the already-mentioned ‘I Should Have Known’, slowing things down further whilst cranking up the emotion. The curtain call finale ‘Walk’ ends matters on an undoubted high: a slow-building triumph, as Grohl begins crooning but soon screaming out the impassioned bridge as the tension builds up to a jaunty end. Wasting Light is one hell of a ride, and definitely the Foo Fighters’ strongest album in terms of execution since 1997’s The Colour And The Shape. Like a tireless puppy wanting to play ball with you, they continue to produce workmanlike rock records, eager to impress as if each were their first. There are no real drawbacks to this album, once you’ve viewed it in the context of why it was made: they deliberately set out as a band to rock as hard as they could, and should get 10/10 just for that. Next album, we can talk about subtlely and experimentation. For now, embrace the unrelenting power of Wasting Light.

 

Tracklisting:

  1. Bridge Burning
  2. Rope
  3. Dear Rosemary
  4. White Limo
  5. Arlandria
  6. These Days
  7. Back & Forth
  8. A Matter Of Time
  9. Miss The Misery
  10. I Should Have Known
  11. Walk

 

Release date: 12 April 2011