Winter 2001, sat on the bus home after a long Saturday at the skate park, hands numb, shins aching, fumbling with my Sony Walkman, praying my batteries will hold out for the 45 minute ride home. On my lap sat Kerrang! 2: The Album, and little did I know the impact it would have on me for the rest of my teenage life, transitioning awkwardly into adulthood.
The opening track changed everything; Breakout by Foo Fighters. The energy, the searing vocals, the driving guitar and of course, the drums. It was from that moment I sought out every possible Foo Fighters song, album, demo, anything. And in the days before internet made any such basic exercise a task that can be achieved in less than 30 minutes, it was hard work. Exposure to music was a slow and drawn-out process in the early 2000s; word of mouth, magazines and cable TV were the only portal to the kinds of music that would rarely get played on commercial radio.
Foo Fighters would go on to provide the soundtrack to my youth, from that moment on the number 1 bus to Aldershot from Farnborough, copied CDs of There is Nothing Left to Lose passed around the music corridor before Miss Muir's dire music class. One by One downloaded tentatively through Limewire by Richard Miles to see us through the latter stages of high school, and Skin and Bones to ease the comedown of returning to the UK after travels in South East Asia.
Losing Taylor Hawkins is losing a part of my childhood, the impact he and the rest of Foo Fighters had on me cannot be measured, when the news filtered through to me, it was like hearing a childhood best friend had passed. But just like how fleeting our childhood is, the memories and enduring nostalgic feeling will always remain, and with Taylor Hawkins' legacy, there's no chance of that fading anytime soon.