An Open Letter From Pat Smear To Dave Grohl, Fans, and The Entire Foo Fighters Community
Hey everyone,
It’s Pat. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, which, for those who know me, is a dangerous pastime. But in the quiet moments between the roar of the crowd and the hum of the tour bus, my mind tends to wander through the incredible, absurd, and beautiful journey we’ve all been on together. I felt like I needed to put some of it into words, to say thank you, and to maybe offer a little perspective from my corner of the stage.
First, to Dave.
Brother. Where do I even start? From a chaotic practice space in Seattle to stadiums around the world, our path has been anything but normal. I still remember getting that call to come and jam with you and Nate after… well, after everything. I was the guy from The Germs who had already quit one massive band. I thought my days of playing to more than a few hundred people were long behind me. But you saw something else. You saw a friend.
You built this thing from the ground up, from the ashes of unimaginable grief, and you had the sheer, unadulterated nerve to ask me to be a part of it. You never treated me like a hired gun; you always made me feel like a foundational piece of this crazy puzzle. That means more to me than any platinum record or headline slot.
We’ve shared a guitar strap for nearly three decades. I’ve stood to your left, watching you pour every ounce of your being into every single note, every drum fill, every scream into a microphone for the people who need it. Your energy is a force of nature, a tidal wave of joy and passion that I’m still just trying to surf on without wiping out. You are the eternal engine of this band, and it has been the privilege of my life to be your sideman, your foil, and most importantly, your friend. Thank you for the invitation. Thank you for the trust. Thank you for the laughter.
To Taylor. We miss you every day, man. The light you brought is still here, in every fill Nate plays, in every smile we share on stage when something goes wonderfully wrong. You were the heart, and that heart still beats loudly in everything we do.
To Nate, Chris, Rami, and now Josh and everyone who has ever shared this stage with us—you’re my family. We’ve seen it all, haven’t we? The broken strings, the missed flights, the inside jokes that stopped being funny years ago but still make us cry-laugh. This isn’t a job. It’s a lifelong sleepaway camp for weirdos who never learned to play by the rules, and I wouldn’t want to be in any other gang.
And to the Foo Fighters community—the fans, the crew, the people who have been with us since the first note of “This is a Call” and those who just found us yesterday.
You are the reason. It’s the oldest, corniest line in the rock and roll handbook, but my god, is it true. I see you out there. I see the homemade signs, the old tattoos fading, the new ones fresh with lyrics that got you through a tough time. I see you singing every word to every song, even the deep cuts from the second side of the third album that we hardly ever play. I feel your energy from the stage. It’s a physical thing, a feedback loop of pure, undiluted joy that fuels us.
I know we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve lost heroes. We’ve faced down silence and chose to answer it with noise. You’ve let us into your lives—at our shows, through your headphones on your way to work, at your weddings and parties. That is not a responsibility we take lightly. It’s a sacred, weird, and beautiful trust.
I know I’m the quiet(ish) one. I’m the guy making weird faces, bouncing around, and seemingly just having the time of my life up there (which I am). I might not be the frontman, but I want you to know that I absorb it all. Every cheer, every fist pump, every story you shout at me from the barrier—it all goes into the vault. When things got tough for me, health-wise, the thought of getting back to that, back to you, was a huge part of what kept me going. This band, this community, is a life force.
So this letter is really just one giant, rambling, 1000-word thank you note.
Thank you for letting me be the weirdo in the background. Thank you for accepting this band as it evolves and changes and perseveres. Thank you for your resilience,which mirrors our own and inspires us to keep going. Thank you for understanding that this isn’t just music;it’s our collective, shared history. It’s the soundtrack to your first car, your worst breakup, your best day.
As long as Dave is willing to scream his lungs out for you, as long as Nate is holding down that thunderous low end, as long as there are chords to play and songs to write, I’ll be there. I’ll be the one with the stupidly huge grin, trying to keep up, and loving every single second of it.
This is still the best job in the world, because I get to do it with my friends, for my friends. And that’s all of you.
With so much love and feedback,
Pat
