Nothing Left To Lose

Stack dead actors, stacked to the rafters/Line up the bastards all I want is the truth/hey hey now can you take it?/And we cry when they all die blonde?"

No matter what the man responsible for the explosive, shuddering drums on the greatest single released this decade ('Smells Like Teen Spirit') turns to, there will always be ghosts from the past that people will insist he is exorcising.

Such scrutiny side-tracks from the fantastic, bruising guitar pop which the Foo Fighters create, on this their third album. There may be nothing quite as catchy as 'This Is A Call' or 'Monkey Wrench' on exhibit here, but that does not mean that Nothing Left To Lose lacks punch.

This is a more subtle effort than their previous studio offerings, dripping with a distinctively American moodiness. Dave Grohl's voice is pitched at a lovely mid-range melancholic and melodic drawl, which should pretty much silence the 'Grunge Ringo' detractors.

'Breakout' nods towards the primal screaming which the late Kurt made his own, while 'Learn To Fly' has one of those very simple, gorgeous choruses that has you addicted by listen number three. 'Gimme Stitches' is a mini dirty epic which could even rival The Stones for deep-down, red-hot, sexy grit n' glam.

If you want to be real nit-picky, then it could be argued that there is no singular anthem there to propel the Foos from the great to the awe-inspiring.

But Mr. Grohl has gone down that road before. And I, for one, wouldn’t ask him to do it again.