The last Foo Fighters album, 2023’s But Here We Are, was a profound act of public grieving, the band’s first music since the tragic death of beloved drummer Taylor Hawkins only a year earlier. “Someone said I’ll never see your face again/Part of me just can’t believe it’s true,” Dave Grohl sang on the LP’s determined anthem “Under You.” For a band whose three-decade run has always been marked by how uncannily well-adjusted they seem, seeing them power through such a major loss in real time made for what was arguably the most emotionally intense listen in their discography. That is, until now. The band’s 12th album, Your Favorite Toy, is the next chapter in that story of fighting through grief and looking forward. Yet where its predecessor often had a reflective tone, their latest is about high-energy garage-rock catharsis, getting in a room and blasting away and letting the noise be your guide.
“Do I? Do I? Do I?” Grohl repeats at the start of album-opener “Caught in the Echo,” his voice distorted in a vengeful blur. He’s asking a question, but it feels like a command, indecision as an honest call to arms. The song bangs: The band’s three guitarists lock into a punk-torpedo riff that could’ve come from a Fugazi record, driven forward by new drummer Ilan Rubin. The song builds tension until Grohl’s drill-sergeant “Do I?”s resolve in a more direct question: “Who can save us now?” That’s something he’ll puzzle through on many songs here. “I’m a puddle on the ground,” he admits on the ominously chugging “Window,” before the guitars let in some sun and he’s brightened by seeing the face of someone he loves. On “Your Favorite Toy,” Grohl howls against shallow distractions through a glam-grunge maelstrom, offering a bit of cautionary rock-star wisdom: “Try not to choke on the glitter,” a passing line with deep resonance in his story. Yet when he sings “Ain’t that a pity/Ain’t that a shame,” on the Sabbath-worthy haymaker “If You Only Knew,” he does so mockingly, as if the idea of getting slowed down by the past isn’t an option, at least not for him.
That doesn’t mean the ghosts here aren’t scary. The album’s most poignant song is “Of All People,” in which Grohl runs into a drug dealer who used to sell to the rock & roll elite way back in the day. The song’s Eighties L.A.-punk riff is poignant, evoking that scene’s less-than-zero ethos, and his sense of horror at seeing this person still stalking the streets hits hard. “You know you should be dead/But you’re alive instead,” he sings. The song engages with a universal moral riddle: Why don’t bad things happen to bad people when the good ones so often leave us way before their time? It’s pretty deep stuff for a two-and-half-minute power-pop ripper.
The response to that apparently inescapable problem comes in a song like “Spit Shine,” a burst of seething guitars and dervish drum pummel where Grohl leaps out of the blur to remind us, “Don’t forget, we’re lucky if we get out alive.” Your Favorite Toy can be slashing and scabrous; sometimes it’s downright bleak (as on the moody assessment of fame “Child Actor” or the pessimistic, politically-tinged “Amen, Caveman”). But at 10 fast, extremely catchy songs, it flies by and demands repeat immersion. Songs here that start off surprisingly bracing resolve into big, sleek choruses, the work of firm believers in the power of heroic, high-protein mainstream alt-rock as a salve against encroaching darkness. The album ends with its emotional centerpiece, “Asking for a Friend,” a statement of purpose that starts out at power-ballad speed and ends up racing to the hopeful horizon. “Searching for something to pray/Words I can use/To lay your worry down,” Grohl sings. He’s found those words right here.
Jay-Z performing at the Stade de France in Saint-Denis in Paris.
Jay-Z Deserves the Super Bowl Halftime Gig
Where’s the love? Jay-Z asked that question 25 years ago, in the chorus of one of many songs in his catalog that still move audiences today. If he performs “Heart of the City” as part of his Super Bowl halftime show next February, those indignant bars are sure to be a highlight: “First the Fat Boys break up, now every day I wake up, somebody got a problem with Hov…” It would be an appropriate choice, too — because then as now, any time Jay-Z notches a new achievement, people find a way to complain.
The jokes and nonsense started almost as soon as the first rumors trickled out that Jay, whose company Roc Nation has executive-produced the Super Bowl halftime show since 2019, might be choosing himself to headline next year’s show. “Jay-Z just Dick Cheney’d himself for the Super Bowl,” Puck‘s Matthew Belloni quipped on X last week, alluding to the time that the late prince of darkness, who’d been asked to run the vice-presidential search committee for George W. Bush’s 2000 campaign, put himself on the ticket. (Super hip and current reference, and not at all apples-and-oranges.) Others pointed to TMZ reports that pop stars like Harry Styles and Justin Bieber had been asked first. “How are they the frontrunners, and he end up in the front?” Cam’Ron, who’s delighted in trolling Jay for many years, wondered aloud on his podcast. “Out of all the people on the roster, they couldn’t pick nobody else?” asked Cam’Ron‘s co-host, Ma$e.
These critiques miss the point, which is that Jay-Z is one of the best choices for a high-profile gig like this. He’s a superstar with a comparable level of name recognition to any other A-lister in music. He has a deep stack of classic songs going back decades. And he’s a highly skillful live performer who knows his way around a stadium stage, as he’s spent this year reminding people on his Jay-Z 30 tour. He tore down Yankee Stadium three nights in a row this summer; just last week, he rocked SoFi Stadium, which happens to be the same place where the 2027 Super Bowl is being held. He held the crowd’s attention with ease at all of those shows, and though there were plenty of glittery guests — that’s a given at a Jay show, and it will surely be true at the Super Bowl, too — he did it mostly through the force of his own magnetic energy. Let’s state the obvious here: Jay-Z is really, really good at rapping. We’re talking about one of the slickest, sharpest talkers in the history of words, someone who made it to the top through a sustained act of myth-making, then kept going. Are we seriously asking whether he can handle a 15-minute televised performance?
And yeah, there’s a touch of self-congratulation in the way he appointed himself. So what? Praising his own gifts is arguably Jay-Z’s greatest talent of all. He made a fine art out of self-applause. He told his story again and again, retracing the steps from Marcy Projects to the corner suite, and he made us believe. It would almost be insulting to the audience if he didn’t give himself the gig at some point.
Pop culture observers in recent years surely remember the backlash to Super Bowl headliners like Kendrick Lamar and Bad Bunny — all of it at least culturally conservative, and much of it frankly just racist. The blowback to Jay’s announcement is mostly coming from other quarters, at least for now (let’s just wait to see what the right-wing swamps make of this one). But it’s disappointing in a different way. Jay-Z has spent his career expounding hip-hop as a mainstream commercial force. He’s not a businessman, he’s a business, man. But he’s also an artist. He’s made huge amounts of money, and gotten himself into the rarefied rooms where he even has the ability to give himself a gig like this, by spinning his experiences into compelling narrative art, one verse at a time. Let’s not lose sight of how impressive his life’s work really is. Jay-Z is not some random C-suite bro, and he’s definitely not Dick Cheney. He’s one of the greatest rappers of all time, by any measure. He’s earned that Super Bowl spot.