A couple weeks ago, we gave away a pair of tickets to the Foo Fighters/Supergrass show—Line Out reader Jon e. Rock was the lucky winner. Here’s his review of last night’s show (all photos by Morgan Keuler):

Although we have never met, it was good to see my close friend and hometown anti-hero Dave Grohl last night. We had a few beers, swapped tour stories, and generally made asses of ourselves; the only thing separating us was eight digits in the bank account, three semis, and four tour buses. Throughout the 3 ½ hour set, Dave would draw the audience close to his heart and take us through his voltaic discography of old and new hits. The only low point of the evening was missing calc rockers Minus the Bear, who were hand-picked by Dave himself to open the night.

Stumbling in half way through Supergrass’ tumultuous set (lead singer Gaz Coombes looking like a young, attractive Dr. Cornelius), I fought my way through a sea of dowdy cargo shorts and Etnies to find my front row VIP seat amongst the rest of the sitting elite. Then the lights turned down, the crowd screamed, and you know the rest…

Or so you may think.

Upon entering, Dave Grohl ran across the stage, and down the long catwalk dividing the floor, axe in hand and gleam in eye. Taylor Hawkins (who’s name should forever be hyperlinked to the pantheon of gods, as so), jumped up on his kit, ready to dominate (as later he would with a mind vomiting DRUM SOLO). He and Nate “I Dance Like I’m About to Fall Over in My High Chair” Mendel would fastidiously hold down the engine room for the next 3 ½ hours, from the opening “Let it Die” to the conclusion of the five song encore. Ex-Germ Pat Smear occasionally wandered on stage with a cellist/violinist/back-up vocalist, and an additional percussionist (Dave Grohl suggested that “if you want to start a famous band that sold lots of T-shirts you would hire this f’-ing triangle player already”).

Half way through their set, lights dimmed again, and a spot lit stage fluttered silently down from the ceiling at the back of the floor. This could only mean it was time for the acoustic set, while boys anticipated spoon moshing with their girls. This was where the true beauty of the songs came through, and Dave would continue to remind those in front of him that they no longer had the shitty seats. A chain-smoking accordion player would accompany the band, giving an eerie, European flavor to the normally screamy, explosive American pop songs. Ending this intimate time with a Grohl-only version of “Everlong,” Dave then lurched back down the catwalk as his band detonated the completion of the power ballad.

The main stage rock power continued with some more songs containing the rock dance formula “nod, nod, shake-your-head, nod, repeat” and a stripper blues cover of the Who’s “Young Man Blues” (where vocal duties were shared between Taylor and Dave).

Never would I have thought that 13 years of dude rock would continue to present itself in a fresh, cohesive fashion. The power and intrigue of the rhythm section, Dave’s ever abundant, child-like humor, and the surprising mix of dynamics and lighting throughout the evening surly left an indefatigable memory in this reviewer’s heart.

Mr. Grohl, welcome back to the Northwest. It’s good to see you again.