Not enough space

One of my best friends, DG, turned 40 this week. We have the same birthday, actually. One of the requests she made this year was for a Foo Fighter's greatest hits CD.

Now, the Foo actually released a CD by the same name earlier this Fall. I saw the playlist and simply laughed. It is a fine list of songs. "Big Me," typical. "Everlong," obviously. "All My Life," required.

The reason for my some-what-mocking laughter is that it's a good list, but it's not a Michele list. It's not a "Rock Your Fucking Foo Face Off" list. That's the kind of CD my girl deserves.

The challenge with a mixed CD is space. I can manage 16 songs, 18 tops. I have a playlist that tops 30. How do I pare that down?

Personally, my favorites are always, always, always non-commercial. So while "Learning to Fly" is a great song, it has some killer commercial success. Off the list.

How many of you have heard "Live-in Skin?" Exactly. "Aurora" was on repeat in my car for two years, one of which was during critical in-utero, brain-growth phases for the ball of fire. Explains a lot, doesn't it?

When I was finished, I was pretty proud of my CD. I think she will like it, hopefully discover one or two new favorites of her own.

And the super shall reign

I know I've talked about the "super group" (trademark pending) before. It seems like some killer bands have split and reformed to make additional killer bands in the last few years.

Take for example Audioslave, the magical combination of Rage Against the Machine and Soundgarden. Then you have the Raconteurs, which, well, they are the shiznick.

Recently a friend introduced me to Them Crooked Vultures.

Now in the pantheon of "super groups" this one is going to reign supreme in my heart. Formed by Josh Homme from Queens of the Stone Age, Dave Grohl from the Foo Fighters and John Paul Jones from this little band you may have heard of called LED ZEPPELIN. (If I have to link to Led Zeppelin so you know who they are, then get the fuck off my blog.)

Needless to say, while worried for the future of my beloved Foos, I pretty much creamed my panties when I found out about this band.

I require music the way some people require soda or chocolate chip cookies. Sure, I can live without it, but why the hell would I? And when your soda is made of pure unadulterated rock, then addiction must be guaranteed.

I wished for something true...

Why won't Dave Grohl marry me?

Fate

It was inevitable I would love this band. Seriously. He's funny! And he's playing the guitar for his baby girl. I love how the accoustics change from the hallway to the stairwell. He plays the guitar like he loves it so much, he can't keep his hands off it. That's why I love the guitar as well.





Ok, give me until the end of the week and then I promise, I won't talk about the Foo Fighters for at least ... what ... two weeks?

I've waited here for you .. everlong

There are some things in life you look forward to with great joy and eagerness: graduation, your wedding day, the birth of a child, your first Foo Fighters concert.

It was everything I expected and then some. It was loud, raucous, long, with lots of screaming and enough strobe lights to generate a grand mal seizure. But it was also a little heart wrenching, tear inducing and fantastic. I did cry a little when they first came on stage. I banged my head until my neck was sore. I sang until my voice was hoarse and I groped my husband in the dark.

Dave was funny, liberally applied the f-word and rocked the hell out of his guitar. I’d say it was one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen, second only to Pink Floyd, which – well, they are just gods so you can’t really blame me.

I did add those lovely pink streaks to my hair, which only marked me as a minor freak in this crowd.

I was reminded again why music is so important to me. This particular band has the most singles in the soundtrack of my life. They played the anthem of my pregnancy. They co-wrote the overture for my love/hate relationship with the yet-to-be-named tax preparation company. And their latest album represents the soundstage for my part-time mommy status. I know every song by heart.

Why them? I don’t know. They fit me best. I forsee a long, loving relationship in the future. As Dave's voice reverberated in my ear, "I won't go getting tired of you ..."

When opportunity e-mails

So I'm clicking the links to my favorite bloggers, posted right, and I flip over to the Foo Fighter's blog. Now bear with me, please. I know you've heard about my Foo love many times. I concede. I'm obsessed.

I click to read the latest entry and ... pause for dramatic effect .... it's from DAVE! Whee! He never puts anything on this site. It's usually Chris and he thinks he's funny, and well, he's not.

I notice that at the top of the blog, Dave's name is hotlinked. I clicked the link, assuming I would float over to his bio or something. Suddenly my Microsoft Outlook comes alive. Oh God, help me, I can e-mail him!!

My mind is racing. What to say, what to say? Of course, I'm not so delusional that I believe Dave Grohl answers this e-mail account. But still, my chance to send him a message via an intern, who passes it to the Web master, who passes it to the IT manager, who passes it to the PR manager, who passes it to Dave's agent who MIGHT pass it to Dave.

The key is not to sound crazy, right?

Dear Dave, (so far, so good)

I have been a fan of yours for many years. I truly enjoy your work and look forward to each new album.

Last night, while I was touching myself.. (Wait. Not a good idea. Scratch that.)

Last night, I had a dream you came to my house in a red g-string and black socks. (Ok, stop. Also bad idea. FUCK, what to say?)

I will attend your upcoming show in St. Louis. I cannot wait to show you my tits. (Is that bad?)

I named my vibrator after you because you kick ass! Keep rocking!

Love,
Your No. 1 Fan
Michele

Yeah, that's pretty good!

Scream and shout, let it all hang out

Shut up, I just bought two tickets to see the fucking FOO FIGHTERS, July 20 in St. Louis.

The presale started today and thanks to some guy named Greg in the Lou, I came by the code to score my seats. I offered Greg untold carnal pleasure to take me to the concert, but he felt sharing that presale code and my ensuing joy was reward enough.

I could literally wiggle for pure happiness!

Redemption Song

I missed my beloved Foo Fighters' performance at the Grammys last night. Instead I was watching the third in the Lord of the Rings saga, "Return of the King." We had a night without the ball of fire so of course we had to watch something long and violent that we could never watch when he's around. Our other choice was "The Departed" -- Lord knows I love a good Mob drama with a little Marky Mark on the side -- but I just couldn't stay up that late!

I'm not a big fan of the Grammys in general. I think they are more of a popularity contest than a true measure of worth. I've thought that since Vanilla Ice was up for a Grammy but I digress.

I checked out the list of winners this morning, not expecting great results but I was thrilled to see Dave Grohl and the boys picked up a Grammy for Best Hard Rock Performance for "Pretender" and Best Rock Album for "Echos, Silence, Patience & Grace."

Hello! What have I been saying all along?

I scanned the list and saw a The White Stripes' "Icky Thump" won best Alternative Album of the Year and Slayer (no shit, Slayer!) won best Heavy Metal Performance.

And then I saw an old familiar name that made me smile, Bruce Springsteen. "Radio Nowhere" won Best Rock Song. His album, "Magic" was nominated for Best Album as well. Chaka Khan, Herbie Hancock, Joe Satriania, Rush, Metallica, Jill Scott. I was tickled pink to see so many talented artists on this year's list. Even Aretha Franklin, whom the ball of fire calls Miss 'Retha, won a Grammy for a gospel duo with Mary J. Blige.

Truly talented musicians are such a great gift in this world. I cannot imagine a day in my life when I didn't listen to, sing or play some music. I've always felt that finding the perfect song, the one that gives you goosbumps every time you hear it, was the closest on Earth you can get to hearing the angels sing.

I just consider myself lucky to know exactly which artists make me feel that way!

Live and lanky

Yahoo is pimping a live music show with my favorites, the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl has looked better, but he's still my special, secret fantasy.

I don't think the hubby is going to appreciate all the fingerprints all over the computer screen. Ewww...

Catch and release

Yesterday my approved pre-purchase of the new Foo Fighters album "Echos, Silence, Patience and Grace" sliently downloaded from iTunes and found it's way onto my black beauty -- aka my iPod.

I love this group, I really do. But I've noticed they are getting more mellow in their maturity as a band. The reviewers seem to agree.

It's not a bad thing. It's like seeing an old lover after some time. There's some softness around the face, maybe a little extra weight around the middle. But when he smiles and his eyes light up, your heart does that little flip and you remember when you were crazy about each other.

That's how I feel about this new album.

"One by One" will always be my favorite. It's a great collection and has sentimental meaning for me. But I'll never pass up the chance to visit my old love, make sure their life is right where it's supposed to be.

Four days

Can I just say, .....

You know they all pretend

What if I say you're not like the others..
What if I say you're not just another one...

I'm the voice inside your head that you refuse to hear.