Foo Fighters – 4 March, 2022 @ GMHBA Stadium, Geelong VIC
Foo Fighters
GMHBA Stadium, Geelong VIC
March 4th 2022
Some nights feel bigger than music. This was one of them.
Under a bruised Geelong sky, tens of thousands filled GMHBA Stadium for the first full-scale rock show Australia had seen in years. The Foo Fighters weren’t just returning to the stage; they were reopening it. After two years of silence, distance, and waiting, this was the collective exhale everyone had been holding.
The Meanies kicked things off with raw, joyful chaos, followed by Amyl & the Sniffers, who tore through their set with feral confidence. By the time the sun began to drop behind the stands, the air felt electric, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Then Dave Grohl walked out. No countdown, no spectacle, just a smile, a guitar, and the opening chords of Times Like These. The response was deafening. Four years since their last show here, and you could feel the relief in the sound.
From there, it was all release. The Pretender hit hard, Learn to Fly soared, and My Hero turned the stadium into a single, unbroken voice. The mix was huge but warm, every note carrying that unmistakable Foo Fighters weight.
Grohl worked the crowd like he was born for it. He laughed, shouted, traded banter with fans, and spoke about how good it felt to be back in Australia. Behind him, Taylor Hawkins hammered the drums with his usual mix of chaos and precision, while the rest of the band—Pat Smear, Nate Mendel, Chris Shiflett, and Rami Jaffee—played with the kind of joy that only comes from being back where they belong.
Midway through, the chaos gave way to something quieter. Big Me and Wheels slowed the pace, the lights softened, and the crowd swayed together. It was simple and beautiful, the kind of pause that makes the noise hit harder when it returns.
Then the set caught fire again. All My Life, Monkey Wrench, Best of You—each one bigger than the last, each chorus a release. The energy didn’t just rise, it multiplied. You could feel it moving through the stands, a shared pulse that had been missing for far too long.
And then came Everlong.
Grohl stood still for a moment before he started. He spoke briefly about Michael Gudinski, the Australian icon who had supported the band from the very beginning, and dedicated the song to him. The first chords rang out, and the stadium fell silent except for the sound of thousands of voices singing together. It was rough, imperfect, and completely beautiful.
As the song swelled, you could see people with tears in their eyes, hands over hearts, smiling through it. It was less a performance and more a collective memory—something bigger than any one person on stage or in the crowd.
When it ended, Grohl looked out across the sea of faces, grinning, shaking his head, almost in disbelief.
It wasn’t just a concert. It was a reminder of what it feels like to be loud again. To belong to a moment, to a sound, to each other.
Some shows entertain you. This one gave a whole country its heartbeat back.
By Jimmy Russell
@jamco17