1972-2022
April 28th, 2022
It’s taken me a while to finally start putting words onto paper when thinking about Taylor. Hopefully this post will provide some sort of much needed venting to release the thoughts and emotions I’ve felt over the past month.
When headlines break of a celebrity (especially one that you deeply admire) having an incident, car crash, or hospitalization, there’s usually a sense of denial. Ignorant bliss takes over as we convince ourselves that the headlines must be wrong. There must’ve been a toxic rumor spread from the acidic and poisonous tabloids to obtain clicks for any sort of media attention. Not my beloved celebrity. No way. They surely have much more time on earth. Their time is no where near the end. There is most definitely a long, promising life ahead, full of joy, memories, and fulfillment. This one was different though. This one sucked. This one was unfortunately true.
Taylor was special. That word gets thrown around a lot and has quite frankly lost it’s value. Okay, fuck that. Taylor was out of this damn world. Taylor was a god amongst men. Taylor was one of the coolest cats to sit behind a drum kit. Sound better? I thought so. There’re so many unique qualities that separated Taylor from not only other drummers, but other musicians. He had style oozing through that signature look composed of board shorts, tank tops, and California bleached hair. Not to mention a kick ass mustache that would make Tom Selleck tremble. Many may not think it’s a big deal but I was always infatuated by Taylor’s long, blonde hair. The sun bleached accents, straight length, and overall flow to it was hypnotic. He was an inspiration to why I always wanted to grow out my hair, along with Dave Grohl. Plain and simple, he looked like a rock star, walked like a rock star, and sounded like one. This style paired extraordinary with his personality. Similar to a fine cheese and wine combo. He never took anything too seriously. He kept the mood light-hearted and knew how to make someone laugh. Taylor brought such a gripping and likable mood to conversations, acting performances in the many great Foo Fighters music videos, and on stage. But must we not forget a signature characteristic of Taylor? That smile. Holy hell, that smile. It was never uncommon to see him ear to ear laughing and shining a light to any room with that smile.
But not only did he look the part, he played the part. Taylor’s musicianship has cemented himself in history. With definitive recognition from being inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of fame a few months before his death, his work in 25 years with the Foo Fighters will undoubtedly stand the test of time. His playing sparked an energy in all venues, big and small. With thrashing drums riffs, rhythmic head-bangs, and scorching facial expressions, it wasn’t hard for Taylor to receive most of the attention from an audience. His raw passion behind the kit and artistic flare was an immense influence on me. In my eyes, THAT was how a drummer was supposed to play. Not only does the drummer set and keep the beat for a song, they are the glue. It’s only fitting that the drummer sets the energy as well. Taylor Hawkins practiced this consistently.
I’m forever grateful I grew up in an era where Taylor’s sound shaped my music taste, along with many others. Songs such as Learn To Fly, All My Life, Times Like These, Rope, Walk, and These Days, will continue to blow my mind as Taylor’s flare and seductive tone resonate. I remember spending countless hours sitting at my Tama drum kit, headphones plugged into my second generation iPod nano, the volume turned up all the way, and trying to play along to songs like Learn To Fly, Rope, and The Pretender. I would be waving all my limbs, to not only trying to replicate Taylor’s technicality, but also his style. My eyes would be squinted, mouth open, and head banging along with every cymbal crash. I wouldn’t get close to replicating his playing. But in my head, I imagined that I was the coolest guy in the room, like Taylor. I imagined I was beating the hell out of nice kit, in a grungy, dimly lit venue, reeking of spilled beer and cigarettes.
Through those moments of blaring Foo Fighters songs while playing and focusing solely on Taylor, as if I were studying for an exam, I felt connected to something greater than myself. I felt complete in a way. It’s as if a recording of someone bashing an instrument transforms you into this state of Euphoria. Well, that’s exactly what it did. It was as if, in that moment, I had lost care of everything else in life. That my only purpose in that moment was to play as hard and as loud as Taylor.
Taylor’s playing was more meaningful than just his technicality. It was art, plain and simple. Comparable to Neil Peart and John Bonham, Taylor’s riffs and fills were immediately recognizable. Notable’s include: the opening snare hits in The Pretender, the entirety of Rope (but especially the chorus), and the non-traditional off-beat hits on These Days. His playing has impacted music in a way that few others can say the same. When you hear a song Taylor has played on, you can vividly imagine Taylor playing it. With crystal clear imagery, you can see his hair bouncing, a big rock smile on his face, and his arms beating the shit out of the toms and cymbals. The talent isn’t limited behind the kit though. That voice, oh that voice. Known to swap positions on stage with Dave, Taylor could tear up a Queen cover. With a raspy tone that not many can replicate, Taylor had an additional weapon in his arsenal. For those unaware, you may be asking, “Well did he have the same style and flare singing at the front of the stage as he did behind the kit?” You bet your ass he did. A world class performer through and through.
As much as I’ve loved celebrating his life throughout this post, he wasn’t perfect. But let’s face it, none of us are. We all fuck up and make mistakes. Taylor is not unlike us in this way. Mistakes and misfortunes have rolled his way. Unfortunately, these led to his early departure from life. When the news broke of his death with no released diagnosis yet, I was anxious. My gut started churning and an immediate fear growing that the cause of death could be from some sort of substances. Taylor has had a history of substance use in the past. I, as well as many others, thought those days of Taylor’s life were behind him. Especially with a family in his life, I was confident that this would not be a concern. But from reading the abrupt headlines and statements such as “found dead in his hotel room,” my gut told me otherwise. After several days, my fears were confirmed. Multiple substances were found in his system after the toxicology report.
It sucks for so many people. It sucks for his family, including his wife and two children. It sucks for his parents. It sucks for his close friends. It sucks for the members of Foo Fighters. It sucks for all of music.
Taylor’s legacy and sound will live on. His recognizable tone, captivating smile, and smooth style has cemented him in history. He won’t just be remembered as an amazing musician, but as an amazing human. Always ready to provide a joke or laugh, he was the textbook definition of cool. He’ll be missed by all. Rest easy Taylor.