Dee Gees / Foo Fighters
Hail Satin / Live
Roswell Records, Inc., under exclusive license to RCA Records
This is how the Foo Fighters chose to commemorate 25 years of existence. Tongue in cheek, but also painfully earnest covers of disco-era Bee Gees. They called themselves the Dee Gees which is probably hilarious. They called the album Hail Satin which is also probably really funny. And then they set to work showing off Dave Grohl’s well-meaning falsetto and flattening the grooves of some sophisticated pop music – squishing it down between glass slides so that disco-tourists can nod and take photos.
It all just screams – in a high pitch, natch – the privilege Grohl has had rebuilding himself into an iconic nice-guy metal-makes-good brand. There’s no artistry at all on display. Just cheeky grins and big-time mugging. A modicum of musical talent can take you a long way if you’ve got the right look, the right genes, were in the right slacker-icons band, etc.
The whole thing feels like a long-form SNL skit without a laugh-track.
And they should really have named it after one of the songs. Tragedy.
But wait, the real horror arrives if you flip to side two. Actual Foo Fighters songs. New ones. Recorded live without a laugh track (required, you can supply your own) or an audience.
Whatever promise there might have been on the first two records is long buried under two decades of hackneyed, sub-par Springsteen-isms. Songs built from a schematic that demands a shoutalong stadium audience have never sounded more empty than in a pandemic world.
This is as excruciatingly soulless as music can get. It’s like a selfie that felt cute at the time. And you should definitely delete. And not later. Do it now. Right now. Use fire on it just to make sure. Stamp hard. And then drive two towns away before you call the police and report this mercy killing.