There was little in the way of arty visuals, just the band on big screens clearly enjoying what they’re doing. Actually smiling. I don’t want to go on about the contrast with Radiohead. The English band’s contrariness has led them to artful, heart bursting, head spinning places most bands will never reach. But Foo Fighters know how to rock a festival. “There ain’t no party like a Foo Fighters party,” as Grohl promised. And he was as good as his word.
Grohl kept asking for the bright overhead stage lights to be turned up to revel in the huge audience looking happy and glorious. But when the lights went down and ten’s of thousands of phones were turned on at the charismatic rocker’s request, glittering in the night like a field of stars, the sight was breathtaking.
When he asked the crowd if they wanted two more songs, they bayed until he upped his offer to ten. The band rocked on for 20 minutes after the official curfew, even throwing in a bar band Queen cover version of Under Pressure with drummer Taylor Hawkins on vocals and Grohl back on the drums he used to play in Nirvana. Grohl improvised a dirty dittie full of the f-word, just to break Adele’s record for swearing at Glastonbury. They finally ended at 5 past midnight, still rocking full tilt like they were having the time of their lives, spectacular fireworks blasting over the Pyramid stage.