I think what happens is: the reason why different people have different musical taste is because you find yourself in someone else’s song, so as you’re going through life searching for your own identity, you hear a song that you connect with and then that becomes part of you.
The Colour and the Shape is the crescendo of the wave upon which my adoration of Grohl rests. Everything else he’s done that I love – the other Foo Fighter albums, Probot, Queens of the Stone Age – they all, as Grohl projects – rest below the awesomeness of The Colour and The Shape.
This album is a long, deep, sigh. It’s things I wanted to say but didn’t have the nerve. It’s things I wanted to whisper, but had no one to whisper them to. The Colour and The Shape was my release and relief. It was perfection in a world that had become horribly flawed for me. It was Dave Grohl’s answer to my question “How do I let this all out?” It wasn’t angry music that did it. It wasn’t depressing music that did it. It was this. It was the long, deep sigh of Colour that helped me unburden myself. Monkey Wrench and Hey, Johnny Park! set me free. February Stars, Walking After You, Doll and all the rest are the breath that encompass the sigh.