Foo Fighters, Old Trafford

I'll be the first to admit I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed Royal Blood weren't supporting the Foo's on this show; Teenage Fanclub were. The irony of this was that Dave Grohl went on to say that during his Nirvana days, the band idolised Teenage Fanclub while touring with them, and only ever wanted to write songs as good as theirs. How the tables have turned.

Dave Grohl, in typical Dave Grohl fashion, stormed on stage shouting "IT AIN'T FUCKIN' RAININ' NOW!", to a stadium full of people who'd been stood in the rain waiting for this moment for several hours now, endured Teenage Fanclub in the meantime but were now slightly giddy because the rock and roll son of God and his fellow Foo's were finally on the stage, where they belong. I've never known banter and charisma like Dave Grohl's. It's effortless. "We're gonna play you some rock and roll music tonight, is that alright? I'm gonna be your fucking DJ tonight!" and "Y'all sweaty guys in the front, just look after each other alright? You need to get a fucking job, don't y'all have work in the morning?" were two of my favourite quips.

The set was two and a half hours. They played until the venue's curfew, and even then they seemed reluctant to leave. Foo Fighters are a masterclass at their trade - a very distinct sound, a discography spanning 20 years, altering the setlist as the show happens, leaping around the stage but never faulting and clearly enjoying every second of it.

The highlights for me were Grohl's acoustic version of My Hero, stood at the end of the promenade, under a spotlight, urged on by the crowd screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs with him; and Grohl bringing an eight year old boy onto the stage with him because he spotted him on his father's shoulders singing the lyrics.

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