Foo Fighters, Wasting Light - 72/100

Even though they've been one of the most consistently successful bands of the last 16 years, the Foo Fighters are a weird band. Most rock bands start out with visceral hunger, surviving on energy and potential before they get the songwriting and hook-writing down. Dave Grohl's platoon have it backwards. The hits, hooks, melodies and pop craftsmanship have been there since the beginning, but it's taken over a decade for them to really show their teeth for more than a moment. That moment is Wasting Light.


There are still ballads, and this is still Foo, but this is the album Grohl has alluded to for years, teasing us with guest spots, side projects, and one-offs that not only made Foo records sound tame but put them to shame. My biggest gripe with Rock god Grohl has always been that the band he spends the most time with (Foo) is also the worst band he's been associated with. No Foo greatest hits collection could ever stand with his Queens appearance on Songs for the Deaf. I'd also take Them Crooked Vultures over any Foo album, except for maybe Colour and the Shape. Nirvana isn't even in question. And while this might not be an entirely fair argument, I can't help but compare Grohl to an all-star playing on a mediocre team. You get to see him shine at the All Star game, every four years at the olympics, and for a few playoff games, but you can't help but wonder where his career would be if he were surrounded by more talent.

If Wasting Light proves to be a sign of things to come as opposed to a late-career anomaly, Dave Grohl's middle age has been a Renaissance. It's three-quarters of an awesome album. Though not as incendiary as his other projects, the band is more fierce than they've ever been. The catches are hookier than they are poppy here. The underrated Taylor Hawkins thumps harder than ever before, sounding like someone just untied the straightjacket he's had on for years. As always, though, Grohl is the star here. Though his lyrics are as elementary as they've almost always been (see "Arlandria"), he sings with the abandon hinted at on a few of their singles. He's not afraid to be slightly angular in his guitar-playing, which is something of a break from the gloss-perfect rhythm guitar that has been the Foo's stock and trade since the "Johnny Park" days.

The first five songs rip, highlighted by lead single "Rope" and "White Limo", the latter of which is one of the hardest songs they've done. After that, the album trades between typicaly Foo balladry (if you've had a radio in the last decade, you know exactly what to expect) and QOTSA-lite rock. And while that might sound a little disheartening, the gang handles even the filler with an elder statesman-like touch, never letting the momentum die. This keeps up until the destined-for- radio-overplay "Walk", which sounds ripped straight out of an 80's movie soundtrack (in a good way).

Whether this album is a change in Foo-losophy (yeah, I went there) or merely Dave Grohl rebelling against middle age, Wasting Light has a lot to like. The first half will make you feel like they've finally figured it all out (weird to say about a band that's sold 10 billion records), and while the second half won't blow you away in quite the same manner, you'll certainly enjoy it. It won't be the best album of the year, but it will sound great heading into commercials of baseball games this summer, pumping out of your shitty car speakers, or anywhere else you hear it. Sure, we'll all be sick of it by July after overexposure, but right now, Wasting Light is a worthy listen from a living rock god.