After the death of his Nirvana bandmate Kurt Cobain, Dave Grohl escaped to Kerry to grieve and to escape.
He drove the Ring of Kerry and, while stopping to pick up a teenage hitchhiker, saw Kurt’s face on the boy’s t-shirt. He realised he could never outrun his past, returned to the States and started Foo Fighters.
When Grohl’s manager John Silva recently rang promoter Philip King to suggest Foo Fighters play at St James Church in Dingle and have it filmed for Other Voices, King said: “You know it only seats around 80 people?”
But now it’s happening, kicking off the 25th year anniversary of the festival. And word has got out. Media outlets have been sniffing around and some canny fans spotted a Foo Fighters flight case on Main Street and put it online. (Earlier on Sunday the band also announced and then sold out another surprise gig in Dublin’s Academy for Monday night).
Foo Fighters in St James’ Church. Photograph Nick Bradshaw 
Grohl on stage on Sunday night. Photograph: Nick Bradshaw
Nobody knows quite what to believe as they enter the church. “This isn’t right,” says a young fan named Slash Lawless, a little overwhelmed.
Her old schoolteacher works with Other Voices and called her because she remembered she had Foo Fighters patches on her bag. She can’t believe it’s happening (later she and her friend snaffle up a set list, drumsticks and some plectrums from the stage).
“You kind of won’t believe it until you see them,” Other Voices presenter MayKay tells the crowd.
And then Dave Grohl sticks his head out the door at the side of the vestry, as if that’s a normal thing for Dave Grohl to be doing in a tiny church in Kerry.
Grohl among the crowd. Photograph Nick Bradshaw 
Foo Fighters in Dingle. Photograph Nick Bradshaw
In minutes he and his band are launching into A320 (a rarity from the 1998 Godzilla soundtrack), a prog-grunge triple guitar assault from Grohl, Chris Shiflett and touring guitarist Jason Falkner (Falkner is filling in for Pat Smear who recently broke his leg “while gardening”; Smear’s visage is plastered on Ilan Rubin’s bass drum).
There are no concessions made to the intimacy of the setting. Grohl, bespectacled and grizzled, screams into the mic and sticks his foot on the monitor and wanders up and down the aisle of the church and gets everyone to sing the chorus of My Hero (he cracks up at one woman’s camp emoting).
Next to me, Augustus Bouzius and Jools Jones – two burly rockers from Cork – yell every chorus. “This is nuts,” says Bouzius sporadically.
Foo Fighters play punky new songs – Of All People and My Favorite Toy – from their forthcoming album. They play poptastic old classics like Everlong and they segue from No Son of Mine into Motorhead’s Ace of Spades.
It feels surreally euphoric to experience Foo Fighters unfiltered in this tiny, vibrating, possibly now structurally-damaged chapel.
At one point Grohl asks who has seen them play before and one person shouts “I saw Nirvana!”
Grohl laughs. “How do your fifties feel to you?”
“It was my first gig!” says the man.
“And look at you now,” says Grohl, looking touched, before launching into the cacophonous genius of the Best of You, in the process, making the church feel like the smallest stadium in the world.