“If I don’t get pit action,” said Dave Grohl, pointing to the dark wet circles under his arms, “the whole first part of my show is ruined.” He was jumping up and down, flailing his arms like a severely retarded cheerleader.
I had snuck into the Foos dressing room to pilfer an orange soda only to discover that they hadn’t left for the stage yet. They were still in the midst of their warm-up routine, blasting Slayer and bouncing around the room.
I pick Dave’s brain whenever I can about frontman techniques: he’s seriously one of the best I’ve ever seen and I’m obviously one of the worst.
I’ve gotten a lot better over this tour though.
Now if only I could learn how to talk onstage. That’ll be my next question for Dave.
Bruce Reich was at the show last night, the composition professor from UCLA who gave Brian and me quite a few lessons. He seemed very impressed. Lindsay, Rick Rubin’s assistant, was there too. Jordan was there. Todd Sullivan was there. My friend Adam was there.
Adam said it was weird to see me singing without a guitar. It sure is fun for me, though. Don’t Let Go has been a total blast. I can’t believe how much better that song has gotten.
Jordan said he found the perfect woman for me.
“After all the help you gave me with my relationship I’m going to turn things around now and hook you up.”
“. . . “
“Well, I’ve been talking to K recently.”
“Rivers, you don’t understand. This girl is so hot!”
Figures. Recently there’s been a spate of opportunities, like the women grabbing me in the crowd. Two nights ago Brian saw a woman flash me from the stands, jiggling herself as I walked over to the side of the stage. I didn’t even see her.
So now the whole world knows that we pilfer things from the Foos room from time to time.
Yesterday we found a large bag of Famous Amos cookies sitting on the table in our dressing room.
“That must be a joke from the Foos,” said Pat with a guilty look on his face.
“I’ve been eating their cookies every day and I guess they finally decided to just give me the whole bag.”