Audio•Files

Before I attended the Foo Fighters show at the Pepsi Center on Sept 30, 2005, I was a non-believer. Bitter and confused as to why one of my favorite bands was charging nearly $50 and playing at a sports arena.

As I stepped into the metal giant, littered with advertisements and rent-a-cops, I heard a mother say, “C’mon guys, stay together.” I wondered what I was doing here. All I could see were rich white kids in baseball caps and tank tops. Was this rock ‘n’ roll? If so, I didn’t want any part of it.

The Kaiser Chiefs, a generic rock band from England, started promptly at 7, the time printed on the ticket. What rock show starts exactly at the time on the ticket? They only furthered my opinion that this was a watered-down rock ‘n’ roll disaster. Young teenage girls writhing with hormones held poster boards proclaiming their love for the band. I felt like I was at a Backstreet Boys show. I tried not to let the cynicism eat me alive. It seemed as though every song had a clap-along. Was this a rock ‘n’ roll pep rally?

I looked behind me at the sea of people and saw parents tightly gripping their overpriced beers, hoping their children wouldn’t one day turn out to be tattooed losers. Six burly teenagers who looked like they just got dropped off from football practice muscled their way to the front for Weezer. A girl was sobbing because she had just been pushed around. Where the hell was I? This show felt like a teenage riot.

Finally, Weezer began with “My Name is Jonas.” People were rising their hands and putting them in the shapes of Ws. It looked like two loser Ls to me. Weezer didn’t look like the emo, cardigan-wearing band of yore. I think Rivers Cuomo received Lasik and trashed his horn-rimmed glasses. I thought I saw lighters flicker in the air during “Say It Ain’t So,” but realized it was just the iridescent glow from camera phones. This wasn’t going so well. To top it off, they played a song that says, Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be. Are you serious?!?! I hope not, because aren’t you already there?

My eyes were tired from constantly rolling, my ears were ringing from the blaring wall of sound it took to fill up the Pepsi Center, but then, like a 1,000-Watt bolt of lightning, the Foo Fighters took the stage. About 50 haphazardly stacked amps were piled on stage, five emerald laser beams flashed, fog machines and big screen televisions fired; I almost had a seizure.

“I’m a big fan of this arena rock shit as long as there’s cold beer and rock ‘n’ roll. I’m not a critic, I’m kind of a dumbass,” said Dave Grohl, lead singer for Foo Fighters.

The crowd was mesmerized, and for a moment, the fact that we were in the Pepsi Center was forgotten. Grohl sat behind the drum set for Taylor Hawkins new song, “Cold Day in the Sun.” “Stacked Actors” was served with a hyperactive drum solo and a high-pitched harmonizing guitar battle. Grohl's acoustic rendition of “Everlong” was as sparse as his silhouette in the spotlight, and a perfect version of “Times Like These,” mended my bitter heart.

And as a drunken fan said, “Maybe the Foo Fighters will be remembered in 100 years.” One thing is definite, neither the show, nor the ticket price will ever be forgotten.