Sunday is for the Birds, Thursday is for Foo: Lincoln Financial Field welcomes Foo Fighters Take Cover Tour - August 13, 2026
Words/Photos - Julia Hill
A Foo Fighters show is an entirely different experience…
Everything is raised to the max.
As I drove down 11th Street and watched as crowds crossed the sidewalk, cops and parking attendants directing impatient traffic, the shadow of Lincoln Financial Field loomed beside me like a giant. Lots were already full of concertgoers tailgating and getting the party started before the doors opened at 4:00 pm. This was big; this felt like an accumulation of all the work I put in the past year as a newbie photojournalist. But before I let it all get to my head and inflate the ego that lives in all of us, I was walking alongside a familiar group of fellow photographers, navigating the maze of underground tunnels and emerging to floor level, where we took our places, awaiting the first band.
The smell of cigarettes, beer, clustered bodies, and the Delaware River mixed in the August heat, creating that unique aroma at a Philly show. The stadium was lightly scattered when hometown band Mannequin Pussy took the stage. The punk indie group donned Eagles merch, repping the city's beloved team with pride, as they broke out their first song of the evening. Mannequin struck fiercely with a punchy thirty-minute set filled with crushing vocals, barreling rhythm, and cutting guitar. Seeing a Philly punk band strut the stage at the Linc was inspiring, and they are certainly proving themselves a musical force.
With blood pumping and dehydration an afterthought, up to the floor we photographers went to capture Queens of the Stone Age, and it was thunderous. Volume cranked, QOTSA played an earthquicking set, mellowing midday through with their newest single “Easy Street.” The small respite of the laid-back tune flowed through the audience, the masses quieting down as all watched Josh Homme deliver a powerful yet delicate vocal performance. Transfixed or perhaps spellbinding are the correct words, but in any case it was a delight.
And then, like a whip cracking through the air, they were back at it again with the heavy, lightning-infused riff of “Paper Machete.” Nearing the end of their set, a mosh pit had formed for the duration of the final song “A Song for the Dead,” and of course Philly Santa was there, cannonballing in the middle of the swarm in all his glory.
As 8:00 pm approached, the sun was setting, and the seats were filled. Standing in the stadium and looking out at over 60,000 people awaiting the Foo Fighters was trippy to say the least, and I soaked it all in as the fangirl within me screamed to join the crowd. With a million thoughts running through my head as soon as the lights flickered and the audience rumbled, it was showtime.
Smoke filled the stage, and out came the Foo Fighters with Dave Grohl running down the catwalk, riling the stadium into an uproar as he grinned ear to ear at the sea of people. “All My Life” and “The Pretender” unleashed the three-hour-long show with a buzzing energy and decibels that beat against your chest in a fury. A Foo Fighters show is an entirely different experience than listening to their recordings.
Everything is raised to the max, an adrenaline shot directly striking the heart, and as the band plays on, you're left in a daze. It is not without their fair share of tragedy and loss, with the sudden passing of drummer Taylor Hawkins ( the song “Aurora” dedicated to Hawkins during the show), that they have found themselves at a career high, filling stadiums, evolving yet keeping to what brought them together in the beginning: making music and pouring shades of humanity onto the stage.
