Ever since I was young I have been obsessed with music. To me it's like a puzzle. It's like a Rubik's cube. If I were sitting here talking to you and there was music in the background, I would kind of pretend to listen to you, but I would be focused on, 'I bet that's an 18 inch kick drum and that's kind of an interesting drum move that they have going.' It's a part of my mind that borders on having an obsessive compulsive disorder. Music, at some point in my life, became like my religion. I looked at it as something that was more than just a vinyl disk or more than a poster on a wall. It was something that opened me up and made me believe in other things.
I still dream about Kurt. Every time I see him in a dream, I’ll be amazed and I get this feeling that everyone else thinks he’s dead. It always feels totally real, probably because I’m a very vivid dreamer. But, in my dreams, Kurt’s usually been hiding - we’ll get together and I’ll end up asking him, ‘God, where have you been?’
Just sometimes turning up to 10 and then screaming your balls off is cathartic. It's almost like primal scream therapy.
I would rather just make music and share it with people than worry about what kind of peanut butter someone got me on the rider and have a diva tantrum over the wrong pair of socks.
People ask me, 'God, you must be exhausted. You guys work so hard.' I'm like, 'Do you know what working is? I used to work in a furniture warehouse. That seems like work to me. Coming here and talking to you on a television show, that's like, that ain't work. I might not have slept last night but, shit, this is great.'
It's unfortunate that [ Nirvana ] ended [with Kurt Cobain's suicide], because ultimately it just leaves everyone with this question mark, you know, everybody involved. So it really was a horrible ending to something beautiful. What it does is it leads everyone to believe that the band walked with a black cloud over our heads the whole time. But it was fun. So much of it was really fun.
Enough Rope with Andrew Denton
Take condoms with you, with a lubricant that's not Vaseline-based so they don't rip. Oh, and take mommy's phone card so you can call her to airlift you out if things get rough. Always remove your nipple rings before entering the moshpit.
talking about how to survive festivals
Um. Well. I guess that she’s truly an individual. I’ve never met anyone like her in my whole life. It's one of those things where you might bicker back and forth via lawyers and when you see each other you kind of just giggle. We bumped into each other in an elevator at the Chateau Marmont hotel in Los Angeles, and she invited me to Michael Stipe's room. I went up and said hello.
The other night I was in New York and I made a diner reservation in my name. I showed up with my girlfriend and they asked who I was, so I said, "Dave Grohl." And they said, 'Oh, we thought you said David Groh,' who was in this fucking American TV show called Rhoda in the Eighties. So no, I'm afraid my name doesn't have too much pull at all.
For me there's nothing funnier than seeing a man in women's clothing. I think it's fucking hilarious when big, burly hairy guys paint their fingernails and doll up, unless you're a male Thai prostitute in Bangkok that can really pull it off. You don't think I make an attractive woman? If I did look good I'd be worried."
People who work at Disneyland who walk around dressed up as Goofy, apparently, under no circumstances are they allowed to remove their outfits when they're in the parks. So you have these people in 80lb Goofy costumes, running around in 110 degree heat. Even if you happen to vomit, you're not allowed to remove your costume in front of the children because they'll freak out and won't believe that Goofy is a real animal. Once you're wearing those costumes, you're not even allowed a regular piss break. I guess you could just piss in your suit. But imagine if you're five years old and the first time you met Minnie Mouse she smelled of piss and vomit.
Fuck Keith Richards [ Keith Richards ], fuck all those dudes who survived the sixties. Flying around in private jets, living up their gunslinger reputation as they fuck supermodels in the most expensive hotel in Paris. It's like: you know what Lemmy [ Lemmy ] is doing? Lemmy is... probably drinking Jack'N'Cokes and writing another record!