 Musical Angst Foo Fighters and Weezer bring anguished energy to the St. Pete Times Forum on Sunday.
TAMPA - When it comes to bad love, Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl has some serious anger issues. Over the past decade, the former Nirvana drummer has revealed himself to be a first-rate howler unafraid to wear his hardened heart on his sleeve. This dude must be a nightmare on a first date.
Then again, compared to the twisted, tortures Rivers Cuomo, chief headcase of Weezer, with whom Grohl's crew shared an inspired and hit-stuffed double bill at the St. Pete Times Forum on Sunday, the foremost Foo looks as well-adjusted as Ward Cleaver.
Born in the mid '90s, Weezer and the Foos have excelled at mixing adolescent angst with sing-in-the-shower pop prettiness. That radio-ready blend of bitter and sweet has kept the L.A.-based bands surfing the charts and thrilling millions of fans (11,737 of whom were on hand at the Tampa arena). Of course, without all the wicked women troubles, Grohl and Cuomo would be, well, happy, and where's the fun in emotional stability?
An emotional train wreck who has spent the past decade airing out his quirks and fetishes - Asian women, celibacy, extreme meditation in a pitch-black closet, what else you got? - Cuomo also happens to be one of power pop's great craftsmen, a heavy-metal fan with a Beach Boy brain. (He also has a puckish sense of humor: His quartet took the stage to the strains of When You Wish Upon a Star, a winky reference to new album Make Believe.)
The curious nebbish opened the show with 2001 hit Don't Let Go, a guitar-layered cruiser which featured his trademark oohing and whoa-ing and "begging that girl to stay." His quartet followed that with the pounding shrink session My Name Is Jonas, the kickoff track from Weezer's 1994 self-titled debut, a.k.a. "the Blue Album." Strip away the rock exterior from each song, and you'll find sappy yearning more akin to a Bee Gees ballad.
Legend has it that Cuomo carries around a bulging notebook ripe with mathematical equations for the perfect pop song. That's nutty, but the homework shows. On the painfully pretty new Perfect Situation, Cuomo bemoaned, "Why am I so obviously insane?" then ripped off an anguished guitar solo as yet another imaginary girlfriend packed her bags and split. And such crowd sing-alongs as 1994's Say It Ain't So and Buddy Holly and 2001's Hash Pipe and Island in the Sun (the latter of which he performed sans mates on a small stage in the middle of the crowd) show that Cuomo is indeed getting closer to realizing pop perfection. A few more lousy dates, and he might get there.
Playing with maniacal energy, the fiendishly entertaining Foos, which are basically Grohl and a constantly revolving cast, proved to be the night's much harder band. The shaggy Grohl, who sings, plays guitar and wears cool black wristbands, can growl for sure: Thundering opener In Your Honor, the sludgy title track from a new double-disc album, sounded more like a threat than a compliment. Antilove tune All My Life and an extended shakedown of down-with-Hollywood diatribe Stacked Actors were angry enough to make your eyes water.
But Grohl's voice had a soft side, too, a smooth soaring sadness on full display on massive 1997 hit My Hero, 1999's Learn to Fly and new smash Best of You (never mind the thrashing, head-banging and gargly throat-clearing that accompanied said softness). 1995 breakout hit This Is a Call proved that what grunge really needed was a little tenderness. He even did one heck of a John Fogerty impression on a timely cover of Born on the Bayou.
And for tingly ballad Everlong, a rare vulnerable prolove tune, he sweetly strummed in a solo spotlight. Of course, don't think Grohl is going soft. When the crowd wouldn't stop screaming, he hollered: "Guys, chill the [expletive] out for four minutes!" They listened, and it was lovely. |
