Foo Fighters: Sonic Highways Tour 2015 (Melbourne)
On a previous occasion when travelling up to Melbourne we were burnt by the evening traffic returning from the Avalon airshow. The 40 minute run up to the Westgate Bridge took 2+ hours. With the biennial Airshow on again this weekend, we were taking no such chances this time around and left in the early afternoon. This worked in beautifully with the plan to have some food and a few fine lagers @ Munich Brauhaus before the show. We sat outside, the sun beaming down and helicopters flying over the city. Melbourne was looking mighty impressive.
A big German feed later we set legged course for Etihad Stadium. The sounds of “Telescope House” by The Delta Riggs rang in the air as we approached. We scoped out the shortest line and burst through the gates. “Rah Rah Radio” played as we crossed the later-to-be-filled vast expanse of the ground level. When we arrived at the back of the crowd it was then that the set promptly ended. As a big fan of The Delta Riggs, I was distraught, feelings amplified by some inebriation no less. Sarah did well to calm me. We knew we were arriving a little late, but they must have started earlier than the “Etihad” scheduled time (upon later review, we didn’t miss much – they only played 6 songs).
The Rise Against set followed and, from what we could hear, it wasn’t the greatest of sound mixes. Sarah and I agreed that, personally, The Delta Riggs would have suited us much better as a second billing. In this case however, we would have been in a minority as you could not deny the strength of the legion that was there to see Rise Against – and for them they put on a hell of a show!
The stadium fills and the anticipation of the Foo Fighters set is increasing. Sarah and Gemma have no such interest in journeying to front so I tell Patto that we should jump on the next “person train” that cuts through the crowd in order to get up closer to the action. When the next one comes through I casually slide into the middle of the train and work my way up through the crowd. Patto decides to stay back, signalling me from afar. The “train” later crashes well short of the final station and I have to slide in somewhere amongst the crowd of strangers. I get a message from Al who says his group (who earlier joined us at Munich Brauhaus) is over where I am attempting to get to. I can’t see them. I carry little hope in finding them.
Enter Foo Fighters. The place erupts.
Being tall at a concert attracts a certain currency of hate from others, particularly from those who are height disadvantaged, so I scope out a position near someone taller than me. The opening songs are cracking. “Something From Nothing” blasts out, backed by huge screens of dreamy Sonic Highways motifs. The sound is very well mixed and impressively sharp. Dave Grohl is on the button from the first note. It’s now that I realise that this is a proper rock concert, excellently executed in every aspect, so my need to get closer to the action becomes even more heightened.
A few gaps in the crowd open up between some of the opening songs and I take them where I can, edging closer to the majesty of Grohl. The last gap I take unfortunately puts me in front of one of those aforementioned “height disadvantaged” individuals. A short sedimentary woman with a sour face and an attitude to match.
“Excuse me, could you keep moving? I cannot see.”
“Certainly!” I exclaim, whilst performing a sarcastic royal bow backed by amber courage. It still amazes me how shocked these people sometimes are that they don’t have a pristine and unobstructed view whilst also being 5ft4. I take my orders and move along. It’s then that a golden opportunity presents itself…
A pit circle opens up only a few rows ahead, providing a sonic highway to the very front rows. I harness the aggression felt from my previous encounter and charge through the circle. It’s chaotic. Somehow I arrive relatively unscathed at the other side and work my way into the crowd upfront enjoying the band. This is where I want to be. As Grohl works the runway through the middle of the crowd, I am second on the fence. Now being so close, he too is in high definition to match every other aspect.
It’s at this time I was glad I made the journey as “My Hero” is offered out to the masses. Everyone in the pit accepts it with raised arms in a religious like euphoria. It is indeed splendid. I have a smile from ear to ear for the rest of the show. The songs roller coaster in intensity making for an alternating mix of passive worship and utter chaos. Their block of cover songs, performed at the end of the runway in the middle of the crowd, offers some respite in the pit.
I know the Foo Fighters almost always have a block of covers in their larger sets. They were great and very well played, but (and this would have to be the only criticism for the night) I can think of 10 or so Foo Fighters songs that I would have liked to hear and would have picked in a heartbeat to be played instead. That’s the problem with having too rich a catalog, I suppose!
After that, they returned to the main stage and the ominous strums of “All My Life” warned all to get ready to go berserk once again. The foot was on the accelerator all the way home from there. The pit was not the most wild I’ve been in, but it was certainly one of the best I’ve ever been in. It was a happy community down there soaking in the wonderful tunes. Security were on point too, pulling down any flailing crowd surfers and handing out copious amounts of water to concert goers. Most hydrated pit I’ve ever been in. Mega kudos.
The night ended with “Everlong” and I can’t think of a greater song to end on. Here is a clip that perfectly captures of the vibe in the pit when the song went down:
Wow. One of the biggest musical highs I’ve ever been on. With sweat drenched clothes and carrying a wayward shoe trophy I returned to my group. Gemma freaked out when she accidentally brushed against my shirt. It didn’t matter soon enough as it was raining pretty solidly outside the stadium. We made a dash through the flooded streets and back at the car I sprayed on some deodorant and changed into a fresh shirt (I came prepared) – it was as crisp and wondrous as the night had been.
We set off down the dark highway home, with Triple M radio playing Foo Fighters in celebration.