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Catch up on my previous writings in this series about Taylor Hawkins
Sept. 28, 2022
One week ago, I had no ticket to see the hometown Taylor Hawkins Tribute show in Los Angeles. I’d accepted that for some cosmic reason I shouldn't go. Then, I got a text from my friend Brad, “You still need a ticket? I’ve got 2 general admissions, one is yours if you want it.” “I DO!” I responded, “I could fucking kiss you, man - A Fucking Miracle!”
Brad and I had gone to at least six, or eight Foo Fighters shows together over the years, so it was fitting we’d tribute Taylor together. Then, two days ago, a dire family matter arose in Brad’s life. In a heartbreaking Sophies Choice decision, he sold his golden ticket to be present for his family, and I was going solo to the show.
Brad connected me with Mike, who had originally purchased the GA tickets we’d bought. Mike had just arrived in town from Florida and was grabbing dinner at The Rainbow with other Foo fans, “Come meet us,” he invited. I obliged.
Morgan (Brooklyn), Alex (Chicago), Mike, and I cozied into an iconic red booth and, with nerdy-elation, talked about band interactions, setlists, and roadtrips. At the very end of dinner, Mike mentioned, “Front-of-the-line wristbands will be handed out at 9 am tomorrow.” “What?” I shockingly asked. I was gonna arrive at 2 or 3 pm and hope for a barricade spot. Mike, a well-seasoned showgoer, laughed and educated me on GA pre-line-ups, “You better get there as early as possible.” Another miracle of knowledge had been shared as I went to bed, setting my alarm for 5:30 am.
GOOD MORNING - Sept. 29, 2022
I arrived to The Forum at 6:30 in the morning. Thankful to be there, I bought doughnuts for the diehards who’d slept in tents or cars overnight. Suddenly I was fast friends with my neighbors. The fan in front of the line was Gus, the defacto line manager, who numbered our hands with a Sharpie and was keeping a list of names for order. I was number 73 and behind me were Mike, Derek, Jeff, and Ben, who’d just flown in from Utah. “If we’re gonna be in this line all morning and afternoon, we might as well stick together for the show,” Mike said. Just like that, I had a Foo Family for the day.
While walking the line, I ran into Andi, the amazing concert photog I’ve mentioned in previous writings. “I’m so happy you got a ticket!” she said. “It’s a miracle,” I beamed, “I gave it up to the gods of rock ‘n roll, and they’re showing me the way.” It was puzzle pieces falling into place, and the universe showing me just how big this Foo Fighters family really was.
Like clockwork, Forum staff appeared to hand out wristbands, ensuring our place in line. “Be back by 4pm,” Gus shouted, and we were free to leave. I bid farewell to the Utah guys and headed home to do some work, get some sleep and shower. There was a long night ahead, and by 10 am, it had already felt like a long day.
GOOD AFTERNOON
We were back at the venue by 3:15. The GA line had swelled to over 1000. Our wristbands led us right to the front of the line. When security opened the gates at 5, there was a snafu of everyone bum-rushing to get in. But fan #1 Gus and the staff patiently put everyone back in numerical order. I swear Foo fans are better organized than any government, group or religion.
While waiting for the doors to open, a documentary producer stood next to me, asking if I had anything to say. DUH, YES! Camera rolling, and after months of writing about Taylor, the Foos, fandom, friends, and family, I shared how much gratitude I had for this day and everyone involved. It was cathartic to say it aloud. I hope my words were coherent and worthy of everyone who cares about this band, the night’s performers, and most of all, Taylor.
Doors opened, and we filed into the venue, anticipation swelling with every step. The Utah guys and I posted up just left of center stage. We didn’t make the barricade, but we were next in line. There was an hour and a half before the show, which we estimated could be as long as six hours. The night ahead was going to be an epic long haul.
“I’m thirsty, I need a drink! Who needs a drink?” a voice shouted. “I’ll gladly pay for a water,” I offered to the redhead beside me. “Don’t worry about it,” she said and scurried off, shouting, “Just save my spot!” Her wee friend sniped, “Sure, save your spot, but I can’t see shit!” Her name was Roxy, and she couldn’t have been more than five feet tall; they’d posted up behind me and the Utah guys, all six feet tall. Sharp wit and spunk, Roxy told me, “Mikell (her friend) is getting you water. Lemme stand in front of you.” What can I say? A sucker for a smartass, I quipped, “Only if you let me use your shirt to wipe away tears when I ugly cry during the show.” She said, “Deal!” And our Foo crew grew by two.
Time flew, and before we knew it, house lights went down, and a montage of Taylor began. At this moment, watching the Wembly show broadcast, I was already in tears. But now, in person, I was overcome with relief. A show I thought I’d never get to see was actually happening. I was here and in the second row!
To be continued… PART 2
Hey Cory! I hope you're well. My name is Shandana Mufti, and I got your contact info from Alex, who I interviewed last night about her experiences as a Foo Fighters fan and attending the LA Taylor Hawkins tribute show last month. I'm a masters student in Sweden, and I'm currently working on a paper for a class on Media Audiences - and I'm focusing on Foo Fighters fans who travelled to LA for the tribute show. Would you be willing to talk to me? It'll take around 45 minutes, and we can chat over Zoom. You can email me at ma6028mu-s@student.lu.se