Quite simply, But Here We Are is the best Foo Fighters record of the last 20 years.
This was the assessment of longtime Foos fan and former Vault writer Pete Crigler, and it is my assessment as well, having grown up with this band (I was 12 when the debut was released in 1995) and having been here for all their sonic iterations.
The reasons why this album works are twofold: First, Dave Grohl is back on drums, where he belongs, and the first time he’s done it on a Foos record since 2005. Second, there is heart in the songwriting, inspired by the twin losses of Grohl’s mother and Foos drummer Taylor Hawkins. This dual loss of people close to Grohl inspires the songwriting, but not necessarily in a profound or maudlin way; he’s just processing the deaths the way anyone would (“The Glass” is the most lyrically on point regarding this topic) and channeling that grief through work.
As such, But Here We Are is a compelling 10-track set that recalls the best Foo Fighter moments of the past while also surging forward. “Nothing At All” is effortlessly catchy and intense, “Rescued” is a solid rocker and the chunky title track has some glam-rock attitude. “Under You” is also the sort of rocker this band does so well, although with more unsettling lyrics than usual. Medicine At Midnight, this album definitely isn’t.
There’s also a vein of prog-rock that runs through the album, which is a welcome addition to the band’s sound and makes this one of their most ambitious records in some time; the twisty turns and layers of “Hearing Voices” and “Show Me How” are, hands down, the most interesting music these guys have made in a very long time (Grohl’s daughter Violet guests on the latter song).
The most obvious entry in this new direction is the 10-minute “The Teacher,” which has a Sonic Youth vibe to it and uses feedback, shifting tempos, a loud-to-quiet dynamic and several solos to immerse the listener; the final couple minutes culminate with Grohl shouting “goodbye” in the background as the music washes over. It’s intense. Things then shift into the closing track “Rest,” a simple (at first) elegy for those lost. Grohl sings “You can rest now / Rest, you will be safe now” as the guitar feedback pushes the needles into the red.
But Here We Are never feels like a goodbye for the band, nor does it succumb to enveloping sadness (although “Rest” comes close); this is still a hard-working rock band, and they have a job to do, but in a way the album is the flip side of the beloved 1997 anthem “My Hero.” Twenty-six years on, what do you do when your hero is gone? For Grohl and the band, you create, you push on, you channel your heart into what you love. The result is the band’s most inspired and necessary album in a very long time.