There are nights that instantly feel like they’re going to be the kind of story you’ll tell for the rest of your life. The Foo Fighters’ secret show at Toad’s Place in New Haven tonight was one of those nights. I’ve seen the Foos in arenas, amphitheaters, and festivals, but watching them tear through a marathon 2 hour set inside a sweaty, sub-1,000-capacity club was like witnessing a thunderstorm in a shoebox. It wasn’t just a concert—it was a reminder of why this band became one of the most beloved rock acts of the past three decades.
This gig wasn’t on anyone’s radar until the last minute. Rumors started swirling the day before that something big might go down, but the official announcement didn’t drop until just a couple of hours before showtime. That’s when the scramble began. Tickets sold out in a heartbeat, with fans frantically refreshing their browsers and texting every connection they had. I was one of the lucky few to score entry through other avenues as I often do, and as soon as I stepped inside the tiny venue, the reality hit: I was about to see a band that headlines stadiums playing a room where you can literally touch the ceiling.
Toad’s Place itself is a Connecticut institution—low ceilings, sticky floors, and walls steeped in history. Everyone from The Rolling Stones to Bob Dylan to Prince has played there, but in recent years it’s rare to see a current arena-level act squeeze into such a small space. The crowd buzzed with the kind of electricity that only comes from sheer improbability. Nobody was checking their phones or standing with arms crossed. Every single person was fully locked in, giddy with the knowledge that we were about to witness something we’d never forget.
A Ferocious Opening Salvo
When the house lights finally went down, the place erupted. There was no dramatic intro video or long, suspenseful build—just the band walking out like it was a basement jam session. Dave Grohl, grinning ear to ear, strapped on his guitar, said a quick “Let’s do this,” and without warning they launched into “Enough Space.” The roar from the crowd was immediate and deafening. It was the perfect opener for a night built around deep cuts and raw energy, a reminder of the band’s scrappy mid-’90s origins.
From there, they wasted no time firing off a string of heavy hitters. “All My Life” hit with the force of a freight train, its stop-start dynamics made even more intense by the close quarters. The audience surged forward as Grohl screamed the chorus like a man possessed, the sweat already flying from both band and crowd. “Rope” followed, its knotty rhythms and jagged riffs sounding even nastier in the confined space. When they dove into “Have It All,” a track that doesn’t always make the setlist, longtime fans lost their minds, shouting every word back at the band.
A Setlist for the Diehards
Part of what made this night special was the setlist. Instead of just cranking out the usual festival-friendly greatest hits, the Foo Fighters treated the faithful to a mix of rarities and fan favorites. “Times Like These” brought the first big singalong of the night, its hopeful chorus turning the room into one massive choir. “Stacked Actors,” with its slinky groove and explosive choruses, gave guitarist Chris Shiflett and bassist Nate Mendel room to stretch out.
Then came a curveball: “La Dee Da,” a raucous cut from Concrete and Gold, followed by the snarling punk-metal blast of “White Limo.” In a club this size, those songs felt downright feral. The walls shook, the floor bounced, and for a few minutes it felt like the entire building might actually lift off the ground.
“These Days” brought a welcome moment of catharsis, with Grohl leaning into the song’s bittersweet lyrics while drummer Josh Freese added just the right touch of dynamics. The respite didn’t last long—“The Pretender” came next, all tension and release, and the crowd responded with unhinged energy. “Walk” kept the momentum going, its anthemic chorus sending arms into the air.
Emotional Dedications and Crowd Connection
One of the night’s most memorable moments came when Grohl dedicated “My Hero” to Toad’s Place itself. He talked about the club’s long history and how venues like this are where bands really learn their craft. Hearing thousands of voices belt out “There goes my hero” in honor of the room itself was a goosebump-inducing tribute to the power of live music.
The mood stayed celebratory with “Learn to Fly,” a song that never fails to lift spirits, and the newer single “Rescued,” which already feels like a staple. “Aurora,” one of Grohl’s personal favorites, unfolded like a dream, its shimmering guitar textures filling every corner of the club.
Then came a double dedication that showcased the band’s playful side. “Big Me” was introduced with a shout-out to “Jr. the Farter” from The Howard Stern Show, drawing laughs from the crowd before the band delivered the sweet, jangly pop gem. Without missing a beat, Grohl launched into a snippet of Prince’s “Purple Rain,” giving the audience a brief but soulful taste of the classic before grinning and cutting it off.
Piling on the Surprises
If you thought the surprises were over, you clearly don’t know the Foo Fighters. “This Is a Call,” the band’s very first single, came roaring back to life like it was 1995 all over again. “No Son of Mine” was supercharged with a quick nod to Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades,” a wink to the band’s punk-metal DNA. “Shame Shame” brought a dark, slinky groove, and the rarely played “Winnebago” (a cover of Dave Grohl’s pre-Foo band Late!) was an unexpected deep dive into the band’s early history.
The main set closed with a colossal “Best of You,” and it felt like the roof might actually blow off Toad’s. Grohl let the audience handle huge chunks of the vocals, grinning as hundreds of voices filled the room. For a song that’s often performed in massive arenas, hearing it in a sweaty club gave it a raw, communal power that’s hard to describe.
A Four-Song Encore That Felt Like a Victory Lap
Of course, the crowd wasn’t ready to let them go. After a brief break, the band returned for an encore that was pure fan service. Grohl introduced “Weenie Beenie” with a gleeful dedication to “Pat Fucking Smear,” who responded with his trademark grin before ripping into the song’s distorted chaos. “Alone + Easy Target” kept the early-days vibe alive, a reminder of just how strong those first album cuts remain.
“Low” brought a sludgy, hypnotic intensity, the kind of song that thrives in a dark club. And finally, the band unleashed “Monkey Wrench,” one of their most enduring live staples. The crowd turned into a sea of bodies jumping in unison, screaming the lyrics like their lives depended on it. But they still weren’t done. For the final knockout punch, Grohl announced “Exhausted,” the closing track from their debut album, and the band stretched it into a sprawling, feedback-drenched finale that left everyone drenched and grinning.
The Setlist
Here’s the full setlist from this once-in-a-lifetime night:
Main Set:
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Enough Space
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All My Life
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Rope
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Have It All
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Times Like These
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Stacked Actors
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La Dee Da
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White Limo
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These Days
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The Pretender
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Walk
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My Hero (dedicated to Toad’s Place)
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Learn to Fly
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Rescued
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Aurora
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Big Me (dedicated to Jr. the Farter from The Howard Stern Show)
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Purple Rain (Prince cover, snippet)
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This Is a Call
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No Son of Mine (with snippet of Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades”)
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Shame Shame
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Winnebago (Late! cover)
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Best of You
Encore:
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Weenie Beenie (dedicated to Pat “Fucking” Smear)
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Alone + Easy Target
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Low
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Monkey Wrench
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Exhausted
Why It Mattered
Seeing the Foo Fighters in a venue this intimate was more than just a fun night out—it was a reminder of how they got here in the first place. Before the festival headlining slots, before the Grammy awards, before the multi-platinum albums, this was a band built on sweat, grit, and the pure love of playing rock and roll.
Dave Grohl remains one of the most magnetic frontmen in music. He’s equal parts rock god and everyman, capable of shredding through a song like “White Limo” one minute and cracking dad jokes the next. Pat Smear’s grin never wavered all night, Chris Shiflett peeled off solo after solo with effortless precision, Nate Mendel anchored everything with his rock-solid bass lines, Rami Jaffee filled out the sound with rich keys, and Josh Freese proved yet again why he’s one of the best drummers in the world. Together, they created a sound that was somehow both massive and intimate, filling the room without overwhelming it.
But maybe the most striking thing was the energy of the crowd. With fewer than a thousand people packed inside, every cheer, every clap, every lyric shouted back at the stage felt amplified. There were no casual fans here—everyone in the room had fought to be there, and that collective determination turned the show into something truly communal. Strangers high-fived, hugged, and sang together like old friends. By the end of the night, it felt less like a concert and more like a celebration of survival—of the band, of live music, of rock itself.
Final Thoughts
Walking out of Toad’s Place after nearly three hours of music, I felt both exhausted and electrified. My ears were ringing, my shirt was soaked, and my face hurt from smiling. I’ve seen the Foo Fighters enough times to know they always deliver, but this show was different. It wasn’t about pyrotechnics, massive video screens, or polished production. It was about sweat, noise, and the simple joy of a band plugging in and going for it.
Secret shows like this are rare gifts. They remind us that even in an era of algorithms and advance-sale VIP packages, rock and roll can still surprise you. The Foo Fighters didn’t need to play Toad’s Place. They chose to, because they know that the heart of this music lives in rooms like this. For the lucky few of us who made it inside, it was a night we’ll be bragging about for decades.
If the Foo Fighters ever decide to do another tiny-club ambush, don’t hesitate. Drop everything, clear your schedule, and get there however you can. Because if this night proved anything, it’s that no matter how big they get, the Foos will always belong to the fans—and they can still make a small room feel like the center of the universe.