Life as an Unreal Dream: An Exclusive Interview with Dave Grohl on the Inner Workings of Nirvana, the Foo Fighters Phenomenon
Publishers of Dave Grohl's memoirs initially advised the former Nirvana drummer and Foo Fighters frontman to promote his book through conventional means—fan meet-and-greets and public readings. The premise was simple: read a couple of chapters, strum an acoustic Foo Fighters song on the guitar, answer a few fan questions, and sell a stack of books.
By Mark Savage, BBC Music Reporter
Instead, he went bigger. “I turned it into a full theatrical production,” Grohl says ahead of his opening performance, slightly self-conscious yet visibly proud. “I wrote the show just five days ago. In it, I demonstrate how I actually learned how to play.”
The show kicks off with Grohl sitting on a bedroom floor, drumming against pillows and beating rhythms with his teeth—the exact way the ex-Nirvana percussionist taught himself before he could afford a real drum kit. He then demonstrates how he recorded primitive tracks on an old tape recorder before rolling out a genuine drum kit to blast through Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” This impromptu show symbolizes Grohl’s attitude toward both music and life. At 52, packing out stadiums worldwide, he still struggles to comprehend his own success.
“The book is written from the perspective of a guy who feels like none of this is actually happening to him,” he says. “I can’t believe all of this was part of my life—the opportunity to play with my childhood hero Tom Petty, or boarding a plane, having a drink, and flying off to another city to play in front of a massive crowd. I remember moments like that every single day and think, 'That right there is what’s going to flash before my eyes right before I die.'”
Ahead of his show's premiere, Dave Grohl sat down with the BBC to reflect on his new book The Storyteller, the 30th anniversary of the landmark Nevermind album, and why he is over the moon about ABBA’s grand return.
From Instagram Posts to Full-Scale Memoirs
Why did you start writing a book? Was it because of the lockdown?
It all started with an Instagram account. When I realized I was going to spend months stuck at home, I thought, “My creative impulses need some kind of outlet,” so I created a page called Dave’s True Stories and started writing tales about life. Both of my parents were brilliant writers, so I had some inherited knack for it. After writing four or five pieces, I thought, “Maybe I should start writing a book?”
How did these memories surface? Did you dig up old photo albums and journals?
I have my own mental filing system in my head. Everything is sorted strictly by music. Play me a song from the '70s, and I can tell you exactly where I was when I first heard it; if you play a Nirvana track, I can even tell you what I was wearing when we recorded it.
— Oh, let’s test that! What were you wearing during the recording of In Bloom?
I was wearing yellow shorts and a tie-dyed white-and-blue shirt. I’m pretty sure that’s all I wore while we were recording Nevermind. Far from glamorous.
Stadium Rock, 80s Punk, and the Friendliest Guy in Rock
One line in the book really stuck with me: “I never liked stadium rock. Until I found myself standing at the edge of the stage.” What changed?
It’s simply the best place in the house! When an entire arena sings your songs back to you in unison, it’s pure magic. We humans desperately need a tangible sense of community and shared experience. That right there is what it’s all about.
When you were a punk rocker back in the 80s, you must have looked down your nose at acts like your current self. How did you resolve that contradiction?
When I was a kid, my bedroom walls were plastered with posters of Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, AC/DC, and other massive stadium bands. To me, they felt like fairy-tale characters from a magical realm. Then, for the first time in my life, I went to a punk rock gig at a tiny club in Washington, D.C. There were maybe 50 people there. That was my introduction to live rock 'n' roll, and its raw simplicity made me think, “This is the real deal.” Dreams of stadiums were put to rest.
But then Nirvana exploded, our fanbase grew exponentially, and my punk ethos collided head-on with reality. It created a kind of moral dilemma. But I’m the kind of person who wants to share everything with everyone—both the sadness and the joy, singing and drinking together. So in the end, I made peace with it, and I actually grew to love it.
You’ve been dubbed “the nicest guy in rock” — and I witnessed it myself during Jools Holland’s TV show. The atmosphere in the studio was tense and nervous, but you walked around greeting everyone and instantly broke the ice.
Oh, come on, I’m just polite!
Where does that character trait come from?
Probably from my mom. I grew up in Virginia, just south of Washington. It’s not quite the Deep South, but people carry themselves with Southern dignity. Part of it is also because I grew up in the D.C. underground music scene. It was tiny, maybe a couple of hundred people. If someone needed a guitar amp, of course you’d lend them yours. I still consider all musicians part of a single community. Whether it’s Rihanna or Sting—I’ll walk backstage and knock on every single door with a bottle of whiskey in hand just to say hello.
30 Years of Nevermind and the Madness of Fame
Last week marked the 30th anniversary of Nevermind. Do you remember what you were doing that day?
I think we played a show in Toronto. When the album first dropped, expectations weren't huge, and we were playing venues holding about 100 to 200 people. But as soon as the video for “Smells Like Teen Spirit” dropped, roughly a week later, everything just blew up. By the time we finished that tour, everyone was completely out of control, and we had to get the hell out of dodge. Things got crazy real fast.
How did you keep from losing your mind amid all that insanity?
We were just kids. I was 22, Kurt Cobain was 23 or 24. Everyone processed it in their own way. Whenever I felt like I was losing my grip, I’d fly home to Virginia, have a barbecue with my friends, and hang out with my mom. That helped bring me back down to earth. Dealing with that kind of fame isn't easy. Whenever I see young people skyrocketing to fame today, I genuinely worry for them. It always leaves a mark.
About two years ago, it came out that the original master recordings of Nevermind may have burned down in the 2008 Universal Studios fire. Do you know anything about that?
To be honest, I don't really know. But usually, backup safety copies of master tapes exist somewhere, so hopefully, the music isn't lost forever.
— So a copy exists somewhere—even if it's not the absolute master?
I have one at my mom's house, yeah. What can you do?
— So any future reissues are going to feature that signature tape hiss...
Well, by now I’m so deaf I probably wouldn’t even hear it anyway.
Do you suffer from tinnitus (ringing in the ears)?
For the last 30 years! When I go to bed, my ears immediately start ringing: “Eeeeeeeeeee.”
— Do you sleep poorly?
Nah, I got used to it long ago. My left ear is mostly deaf from all the drums and stage monitor speakers over the years. So there’s actually zero problem when the kids are running around the house making noise. I just lie down on the pillow with my good ear facing up.
— When they grow up, they’re going to use that against you. They’ll ask, “Dad, can I take the car?” right into your deaf ear.
Ha-ha! And I’ll just reply, “What's that? Didn't catch that.”
Life After Nirvana, UFOs, and Tears Over ABBA
After Nirvana, you said you formed Foo Fighters because “life must go on.” Powerful words.
Yeah, when Kurt died, the world turned completely upside down. It was impossible to figure out how to live next. After his passing, I received a postcard that said: “You don’t want to play right now. But you will. And it will save your life.” And even though it didn’t happen overnight, I eventually realized how lucky I was to be alive, and that I probably ought to make the most of it by doing what I love—playing music. That saved me. So yeah, Foo Fighters have always represented life to me. They truly helped me get through a mountain of troubles.
Foo Fighters is named after the military term for UFOs. What do your thoughts on the alleged UFO footage released by the US government this summer?
Oh man, yeah, I’ve been a UFO maniac for a long time. So I follow it closely, but what they reported recently felt like old news. I believe humans aren't alone in this universe, and I'm totally fine with that. It doesn't affect my daily routine at all. But I'm a romantic. When I look up at the stars, I think, “Good lord, I hope we aren't the only ones here.” That would be a huge bummer.
— What if a flying saucer lands and hovers over your stage, a hatch opens, and a bright light shines down—would you go check out what’s up there?
Nah, we spent so much time building this stage rig! Besides, I wouldn't want to leave all this gear behind. So I'd probably just invite them in as guests.
— For a barbecue...
Why not? Grill some meat for the aliens!
I know you’re a massive ABBA fan. What are your thoughts on their comeback?
Oh man, I adore them. When I read they were returning with a new album, I sent the link to a hundred friends, and then I listened to their new song. I cried like a baby. I just broke down and wept!
— What hit you so hard?
The feeling that time stood still. Plus, it’s such a beautiful, romantic, melancholic, heart-wrenching look back into the past. Wow, it’s incredible! ABBA simply doesn’t know how to write bad music.
— What if they invited you to play with them?
I’d go without a second thought. Show me a drum kit, and I’ll start pounding away. I’d play with them in a heartbeat.