Dave Grohl is a multi-threat: singer, songwriter, drummer, guitarist and producer. His ability to multitask also has its disadvantages, given that his focus is spread all over the place. Foo Fighters’ second record following the death of co-frontman Taylor Hawkins, Your Favorite Toy, shows an artist struggling under the weight of overwork. Grohl started compiling a series of songs in 1995 that evolved into Foo Fighters, even though the band at the time was little more than a thinly veiled pseudonym for the singing drummer. 1997’s The Colour and the Shape was an improvement, a chance to showcase the group as a breathing organism.
Your Favorite Toy is the latest in the canon, and it proves to be Dave Grohl and a backing band. Anthem ditty “Of All People” mixes the instrumentation far below the soaring vocals, proving this comment valid. Bassist Nate Mendel sounds underdeveloped on the title track, a gallop lost beneath howling vocals. Pat Smear appears to be similarly wasted on the album, a musician of pentatonic excellence reduced to power chords during “Unconditional”. It begs the question of why Grohl opted to issue Your Favorite Toy as a band record when it could just as easily have been a solo album.
Not a good solo LP, that is. Nobody’s expecting Leonard Cohen-esque parables from the man, nor should they. Taking all of that to one side, the words on “Amen, Caveman” are dire; a collection of badly-expressed babble more becoming of an adolescent rather than a Grammy-winning artist. Grohl stretches himself as a singer on “Shine”, a tempo-shifting rocker that leaves him breathless quickly, positing the listener on the harsh instrumental backing.
Grohl should have delegated lyrical and musical duties to the other members, but the drumming lacks his guttural thunder. Ilan Rubin is a fine percussionist, although he’s in the company of a hard-rocking behemoth who once toured with Queens of the Stone Age spin-off Them Crooked Vultures. Considering the weight Grohl’s fans expect of drums, the singer should have recorded the drums, much as Phil Collins did on the Genesis record …And Then There Were Three…, leaving Ilan to mimic the movements onstage.
Rubin gets one moment to shine: “Child Actor”, a sprawling epic heavy on groove and atmosphere. Grohl chooses to whisper the introspective lyrics, and the result is likely the record’s most successful sonic venture. “I don’t know who you think you are,” Grohl growls, eyeing up the critics who have lambasted his journey and career.
Your Favorite Toy holds another formidable opus: “Asking For a Friend”. Driven by a funereal march, the sentiment seems to be shaped by Hawkins’ demise. For possibly the first time on the album, it makes sense that Smear and Mendel merely decorate the tune, given the power of the central melody. “Asking for a Friend” features a narrator questioning their environment and reality, promising an unnamed character that they will fulfil unfinished business in the future. It’s strong, even if it again suggests that Grohl would be better off following a solo career.
He has the ingredients: truth, carnage, and musical acumen. Hawkins added sparkle to Foo Fighters, which was sorely absent from But Here We Are and Your Favorite Toy. Then again, it may be too early to judge the group’s staying power, given that they traditionally sounded more powerful live onstage than on vinyl. No matter what he does, Dave Grohl remains a multi-threat, bringing energy and passion to his work, but it may do him some good to let his hair down and drum along to Smear’s songs in the future.