Foo Fighters
Skin And Bones

THE REVIEW

"I owe you nothing", sang Dave Grohl about a decade ago, referring to the one who paved his way to success.

The Foo Fighters have always tried to separate themselves from the overwhelming legacy of Nirvana without ever fully succeeding: despite an image of a laid-back and fun band, and several good songs in their repertoire. To close the circle, there is now an 'Unplugged', obviously inspired by the famous acoustic concert of the Seattle band: for the occasion, Pat Smear has been resurrected from his sarcophagus, and the good Dave offers an emotional version of none other than "Marigold", the only song he composed back when he was "just" an excellent drummer and relegated as a B-side. A delicate and heartfelt homage to the past then: it's just a shame that the quality of this concert is woefully low.

Grohl has never been a great singer: but as long as his band focused on making noise and nothing else, revisiting the lessons of Dinosaur Jr and Husker Du, and churning out cheerful songs to become the Cheap Trick of grunge, it never bothered anyone, in fact. In an acoustic setting, however, the flaws come out, and it's frankly embarrassing to see the good Dave - with his cartoonish voice - take on the role of the suffering crooner. To do an unplugged concert, you need intensity, stature, and above all, a suitable repertoire: all things the Foo Fighters lack.

The slow tracks from previous albums are certainly not monumental: "Walking after you" is a rhetorical ballad à la Bryan Adams and remains so here, "Big me" is offered in a terrible piano version that frighteningly reconnects with the Coldplay-Keane axis, and only "Friend of a friend" is saved, which with those two, harrowing chords, tries to repeat the effect of "Something in the way" with fair skill. Electric classics of the group like "Everlong" or "My hero" in acoustic version sound instead dull and convoluted.
Moreover, the tone of the operation does not convince: a concert played in Los Angeles, with a fashionable, clamoring audience (it's as if lighters were popping out in 3D), with an atmosphere of a beach party in Malibu for rich and bored students like those from O.C, with the pathos of retired Red Hot Chili Peppers mimicking "California Dreaming".

No, dear Dave, this isn't it. We know that grunge is dead and buried, but from a multifaceted character like you, we would have expected something that would bring back a bit of the magic of those days: something more than this sad funeral.