by Martin James
Ironically, in attempting to traverse this distance, Foo Fighter’s all too often resorted to formula in order to retain a Foo Fighters sound. The result was an album that wants to fly, but was all too often brought down to earth with an embarrassed, apologetic bump. The Colour And The Shape was polite where it needed to be belligerent, unassuming where it needed to shock. And when the band did go all out for that gut-wrenching rock attack, they seemingly cut the kill short with a friendly smile and a knowing wink. It was essentially the physical embodiment of Grohl’s favourable public persona.
As such, the album encompassed the dilemmas that Grohl faced. In his need to be seen as the anti-star everyman, he had actually created a device that protected, and yet restricted, the band. His no-nonsense, all-smiling ordinariness had translated into the band’s songs creating an album that almost, but not quite, stands out. The good guy you share a drink with after the game; the dependable mate who never lets you down – but also never sparks your life with unbridled excitement.
The Colour And The Shape is the anti-rock star rock album, borne out of the circus that Nirvana became. Like the geeky half-cousin that tries too hard, but not hard enough. The irony in all of this of course was that The Colour And The Shape wasn’t a bad album. It just wasn’t the album it should have been when you consider the combined forces at work. It lacked that free-falling edginess that had marked out producer Gil Norton’s best work with The Pixies; it lacked the vulnerability that ran through the heart of Grohl’s finest moments and it failed to ignite with the kind of loose limbed petulance that fans of Smear would have expected. If a group of master chefs were brought together and then told they could only make meatloaf, it would have tasted like The Colour And The Shape; tasty, but not the gourmet meal you might have expected.
Even more ironic was that fact that the production shone like a 1980s metal act; drums were crisp, tight and thunderous, guitars cleaned up of the excess, distant sounding distortion and instead glistening with bright melody. The vocals too were pushed to the fore with ADT (automatic double tracking) used liberally to beef up Grohl’s voice. Like the band themselves, the songs weren’t that excessive so as to benefit from such a cock-rock sound.
“There are so many amazing rock ’n’ roll stereotypes that make for good bands and we’re trying to squash everyone by making ourselves into the most boring fucking band in the world,” said Grohl at the time. “A lot of rock bands aren’t nice. I think this is probably the first time I’ve ever talked about another band in an unkind manner, but that band Sleeper… every time Louise (Wener) does an interview it’s fucking front page. Is it just because she talks about fucking and drinking?
Well, it’s always fun to watch other people try and pull off the rock attitude. We’re probably the worst band in the world for those big quotes next to the picture. We’re not going to say, ‘I like fuckin’ shaggin’ in a fuckin’ aeroplane. And after shaggin’, fuckin’, smokin’ fuckin’ grrrmmmphhh…’ We’re not a very rocking band in that sense. If we were drinking alcohol, that might be a different story… I don’t think we’re special, and it’s been one of my goals to make people feel comfortable with us.”
Had he ever considered taking on a rock persona? It might have given The Colour And The Shape a wilder outlook. “I’m too boring and unimaginative a person to think up an interesting fuckin’ persona. I’d probably end up dressing like Bootsy Collins – ‘I’m a rock star, look at my glasses!’ I mean, God. When I was just seven I thought Kiss were cool.”
In fact Grohl still thought Kiss were cool. The sing-and-chant-along choruses that Grohl specialised in came from the same lineage as Kiss’ ‘I Want to Rock ’n’ Roll All Night’… only Foo Fighters didn’t “party every day”.
Interestingly The Colour And The Shape actually included two tracks from the original sessions with William Goldsmith’s drumming still intact. Well, almost two tracks. He featured on the entire opener ‘Doll’, but was only present on the slow section of ‘Up In Arms’. All other drum tracks came courtesy of Grohl.
‘Doll’ opened the album with a lilting country rocker that fell somewhere between The Lemonheads and Lynard Skynard in ballad mode. It also introduced the overriding theme of the album, dealing with loss. Specifically the loss of his long-term relationship with ex-wife Jennifer Youngblood, the loss of anonymity he had enjoyed before (with Nirvana everyone wanted the singer not the drummer, with Foo Fighters everyone wants the ex-drummer) and finally the loss of friendship (either through tragedy or negligence).
‘Monkey Wrench’ followed with its 1980s power punk heart beating to a defiant pose. “I’d rather leave than suffer this.” Following on Grohl dealt with losing touch with old school friend Johnny Park. In the appropriately titled ‘Hey, Johnny Park!’ he asked the protagonist to get in touch. However the lyrics were underscored with a sense of bitterness. Musically ‘Hey, Johnny Park!’ sounded like Metallica covering Husker Du, with Grohl – presumably inadvertently – adopting an uncannily close imitation of Metallica’s James Hetfield.
‘My Poor Brain’ is the first example of the infuriating nature of the album. Starting with a cacophony of frequency snatches and wireless sounds, it opened out into a glorious high-pitched melody over a simple strummed guitar motif, only to ergot into a clichéd neo-grunge chorus, complete with screeched vocals and guitars repeating a near-feedback refrain. Quite simply the track, which had originally been called ‘Chicken Darby’, lacked the courage to take either the verse or the chorus to their illogical extremes. Instead, Foo Fighters opted for the near-apologetic chorus angst to counter balance the verse’s sweetness.
Lyrically, ‘My Poor Brain’ once again dealt with the breakdown of a close relationship. Although this time the mood was less about defiance than acceptance of an impossible situation. Of the album’s rockers, ‘Wind Up’ was perhaps one of the most effective. Built around an ascending, circular riff, it found Smear’s guitars flying off in blazing Fugazi-esque machine gun staccato. Simple, but effective.
However, ‘Up In Arms’ featured the same failings that coloured ‘My Poor Brain’, thanks to a Neil Young-style country intro that, far too predictably, opened up into power punk pastiche. Sadly, this time the song sounded far too much like Green Day. Only the song’s theme of separation and reconciliation could be easily attributed to Grohl.
‘Up In Arms’ faded directly into the album’s first true rock epic ‘My Hero’. Again coloured a lighter shade of Metallica, the song thundered along to Grohl’s powerhouse rolling drums and a searing guitar motif over which the vocal melody moved between a cynical sneer and open-mouthed awe.
The song also introduced the theme of loss of anonymity. Here he faced the hero worshipping aspect being a rock star from the fan’s viewpoint. He subsequently used the soapbox to declare his hero to be ordinary.
Many critics mistakenly believed the song to be about Cobain. However it was in fact about the situations that Foo Fighters had increasingly found themselves in, and their oft stated desire to remain normal, ‘nice’ people. Among the inevitable aspects of the hero worship Grohl and his band were now witnessing was the hanger-on, the fan that thinks they’re the band’s best friend. “We come into town and there’s people waiting outside every hotel,” explained Mendel. “How do they know where we’re staying? Don’t know, but they’re always there.”
“And they always go straight for Pat,” added Grohl. “What was that one girl’s name? She offered Pat a psychic reading and he was like, ‘Oh, thank you very much, but no…’ And then she started showing up at every show. Like, ‘Oh, I came to visit my mom – in Minneapolis. Next day, Indiana, she shows up outside the hotel. ‘Dave! Dave!’, she’s going, ‘Tell Pat I’m here! I’m waiting outside.’ Then Chicago, then Denver… As far as you can go, and she’s still there.” (7)
Next track on The Colour And The Shape was the Beatles bar room sing-a-long ‘See You’. One of the album’s lighter moments, it is perhaps surprising that it also represents
an album high point thanks to its sheer honesty. Neither a rocker, nor a grunge-by-numbers throwaway, this represented a moment of respite from the continuous onslaught of unsubtle dynamics. Furthermore it was one of the few tracks that had the courage of its convictions, never changing tack mid-way through to satisfy the rocker’s needs.
‘Enough Space’ found Foo Fighters firing on all cylinders and delivering a hardcore-meets-metal workout. The song title referred to Grohl’s boredom at always being asked about sci-fi. When he named his band and label he had never predicted quite how many people would assume him to be obsessed with outer space.
“Every time we got together to do an interview, or every time we read a feature on the band, it had more to do with UFOs and science fiction than the music,” he says. “I’m a sci-fi buff; I’m a UFO buff. I named the band Foo Fighters. I named the record company Roswell Records because of the UFO crash in New Mexico. So, for good reason, people suppose I’m obsessed with outer space, which I’m just not. I love reading about it, I love science fiction movies, but I don’t pray to the alien god in my fucking pyramid temple. It just doesn’t happen. So I just thought, enough of this space shit.” (8)
The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that when he did offer up quotes about sci-fi, they tended to make more interesting reading than his continuous talk on only being one person in a whole band. “I used to want to see a UFO when I was a kid,” he once told Kerrang!. “I used to lie in the back garden at night and I wanted them to come and abduct me. ‘Please, get me out of here!’
I had amazing UFO dreams. There was one dream where I was standing outside my house looking up at the sky and I suddenly realised that it wasn’t the sky – it’s this huge disc and the bottom of it is like a mirror. I can see the cars next to me in the bottom of this thing, forty feet above my head. It wasn’t scary. I was just like, ‘Take me! Take me!’
“UFOs are an escape. I sure fucking hope there’s something else out there. There has to be. It’s the romantic idea of staring up at the stars and knowing that someone’s staring back at you.” (9)
It was with the final four tracks that the album finally lived up to its promise. ‘February Stars’ – an aching slow jam that opened with a country lament, complete with honey dipped harmonies, before building towards an epic impassioned climax. ‘Everlong’ followed with one of Grohl’s most touching and passionate songs to date, thanks to its undulating riffs and dejected melody. Again, the guitar hooklines sounded like 1980s out-takes, but this time around the combined force of the arrangements, Grohl’s vocals, the drum track and the overall melody gelled into a solid whole. Suddenly the Foo Fighters sounded once again like they knew where they were heading, and made no apologies for the route they were taking. It was a cathartic moment amidst the album’s over self-consciousness.
‘Walking After You’ again found the band wandering through Velvet Underground territory, specifically echoing ‘Pale Blue Eyes’, but this time taking things to a satisfying conclusion. Essentially a ballad for a spurned lover who refuses to let go, its acoustic guitar interplay brought out a new depth and sensitivity to Foo Fighters. Beautiful.
Concluding track ‘New Way Home’ offers a rare moment of insight into Grohl’s personality with the line, ‘I love this leash that holds me when I try to run’. Despite his life in music he has always clung to the concept of family. Each band he has been in is recalled with warmth. However, as soon as the cracks show, he feels insecure. This transposes itself in the Foo Fighters with his aforementioned admission that he loves the security of the tour bus and the sound of his friends making popcorn. Grohl likes things in their place, where he can find some security from the knowledge of their whereabouts.
A one-time promoter from Capitol (who preferred to remain anonymous), confirmed Grohl’s need for security. “It’s like he admires everyone else around him but doesn’t admit his own central role,” she said. “And if he does accept it he thinks he’s turned into a rock star and lost it. So he keeps people close and surrounds himself with normality in a strange world.”
Grohl’s niceness means that people feel like they are cheating on him if they talk out of line. It is inadvertently an effective tool for controlling things. As a result, most third party interviews come with the request of anonymity.
Musically, ‘New Way Home’ was a stunning combination of searing guitars, pounding drums and growled vocals. Again the mood was epic; again the song was all about building towards the climax, but this time round it sounded like the band had achieved what they really wanted to do. It was the work of a unit breaking away from the sonic, if not the personal, leash.
Two other tracks were recorded during The Colour And The Shape sessions; the tender acoustic ‘Dear Lover’, and the feedback-drenched hardcore assault, ‘The Colour and the Shape’, which, although essentially the title track was left off at the last moment. ‘Dear Lover’ would turn up on the Scream 2 soundtrack while ‘The Colour and the Shape’ had been the B-side of CD#1 of the ‘Monkey Wrench’ single.
The Colour And The Shape may not have been the masterpiece that the band had striven towards, but it bode well for the future. In those moments that it reached its potential, it sounded far and away superior to the band’s contemporaries. “I don’t want to yank my own crank, but this record is great!” declared Grohl at the time. Unfortunately, not all of the press agreed.
“Most of this second album follows a predictable US grunge rock formula. Grohl may be a superb hard-rock drummer, but his gruff, weather-beaten vocals leave the guitars with too much to do in terms of carrying any melody lines. The resulting racket lacks nothing in terms of spirit, but has simply been played too many times before,” wrote the UK’s Daily Mail, while The Independent went further by using the album to illustrate the creative lull being experienced by US rock bands at this time. “…this is pleasant enough grunge-pop, energetic and melodic in roughly equal parts,” they wrote, “but there is a touch of desperation about the album, as if Dave Grohl and his cronies realise that there’s not much mileage left in this kind of lumpen, overwrought American rock.”
Select was even more scathing: “Sadly, The Colour And The Shape does Dave Grohl’s reputation only sporadic favours. At its best, it shows him battling for singularity in a genre that’s stuck in reputation and cliché. At its worst, it puts remarkably little distance between Foo Fighters and any run-of-the-mill band with tattoos, big shorts, bleached hair and a bug up their ass.”
It wasn’t all negative however. The Sunday Times declared that “Grohl has perfected the sound attempted on the first album, a winning combination of bouncy pop with chugging, shredding rock that keeps the tune to the fore even when the amps are turned up.”
Kerrang! were so blown away by the album that they voted it their ‘#1 Album of the Year’ in 1997 and one of their chosen ‘100 ALBUMS YOU MUST HEAR BEFORE YOU DIE’ in a January, 1998 issue: “The Colour And The Shape sees Dave Grohl striding boldly away from his legacy and his band trampolining (sic) gleefully on all preconceptions. Truly Fooking special…”
A few years later Grohl summed up the sessions for The Colour And The Shape as if it had in fact been pure torture. Largely because he refused to use the labour saving Pro-Tools software to tighten up the drum tracks. “The Colour And The Shape. That one. That was WORK. That was real fuckin’ work…. that record was before ProTools really kicked in. It was done on straight tape, but Gil Norton was used to doing ProTools here and there and I objected to it with the drums. I thought, ‘No, I don’t want to do that. Let’s just try and get good takes.’ And in order to get a good take according to Gil, or a take that’s good enough for Gil, like ‘Monkey Wrench’, I played that song, I don’t even know how many times, for like eight-and-a-half hours. Over and over and over and over and over again. So that I would come into the studio to listen back and think, ‘Dude, WHAT are you hearing? What is wrong with that? I honestly think I can’t make it any better than that.’” (10)
On Ma
y 19, Foo Fighters set out on a tour of UK, US and Europe in support of The Colour And The Shape. The tour would find the band playing over one hundred gigs in almost as many cities, heavily featured in all of the European festival line-ups (usually supporting the Prodigy) and retaining the tag of the hardest working band in the world.
Foo Fighters were faced with a huge battle with this tour. The Colour And The Shape had arrived in a year when the full backlash against the post-grunge alt-rock scene in the US was in swing. Of the original Seattle bands, few had delivered the global success they were tipped to achieve. Furthermore the copyists had taken the original sound and turned it into an adult-friendly MTV rock banality. They were no better than Bon Jovi.
The reaction to this increasingly toothless sound came in the shape of so-called electronica. In 1997, Prodigy had delivered The Fat of the Land, the greatest hard dance album of all-time, which had gone to #1 in twenty-three countries around the world. In the US, the electronica invasion was in full swing, while in the UK the media’s obsessions had become split between electronica and alt-prog rockers Radiohead. More poignantly in regard to Grohl’s self-recording ethos, the Prodigy’s mastermind Liam Howlett had recorded much of that global smash album from his own home studio. Suddenly, Foo Fighters seemed limp by comparison.
Foo Fighters simply didn’t fit anymore. They certainly weren’t a poor imitation of grunge, like Bush for instance, and they had no intention of recreating old Nirvana tracks, like just about every other alt-rock band. They were still an MTV-friendly proposition, but many felt that somehow their days were surely numbered.
Ironically, it was the electronica invasion that allowed the band to move beyond the alt-rock circuit. Thanks to many dates with the Prodigy, Foo Fighters were able to access a brand new audience, while the Prodigy – who were at this time plying their trademarked electronic punk sound – were able to access a rock crowd through the Foos.