Dear Dave Grohl

 Dear Dave Grohl,

 This is the face I have right now while writing about you.

I think the time has come for me to say to you, that I need some space.

I remember the moment when I giggled like a 14 year old girl with a big secret, as I stripped off the celophane plastic covering on the Foo Fighters album with my teeth; anticipating the cranial massaging your music was about to provide as I slid the brand new CD into the Pioneer stereo, custom installed, into my Grand Prix back in the 'college years'.

I use to love you...but I feel that we have grown apart.

I read what you wrote this morning...READ IT HERE...and I am disappointed in you.

I was sipping on my cup I bought from the thrift store, filled with store-brand coffee when I opened the Rolling Stone Article page on my 7 year old computer. When I was able to adjust my eyes to the headline...I watched my cup fall to the floor in slow motion. The dark liquid followed the lines in the hardwood floor, flowing under the desk to where my feet sat. The coffee, moving slowly in time to the music I was listening to...I didn't even feel the heat ,as my socks absorbed the fluid.

I was numb.

Dave, I don't know what happened to you. At this point, as I reflect on what you just said...I'm not sure you do either.

We've had a solid relationship over the years. I've watched you grow...and while you don't know this, my husband (a fellow Rock Musician) bestowed the honor upon you to be the only legal "Crush" he allowed for me to have after we were married.

I purchased your music from brick-and-mortar stores, caught a few of your shows in college, and watched numerous performances from my living room. It was rad...I cheered for you.

It is with a heavy heart, that I say...It's over between you and I.

I have been in this game for almost a decade now. I've watched countless musicians as they rose above and came tumbling down, by no fault of their own. I've watched labels, management, and legal teams create glass ceilings in order to protect "The Big Ones".

So I ask, "Who got the Best Of You, Dave?"

Was it someone who approached you backstage after one of your shows in Wembly Stadium? Was it someone in your band speaking on record that U2 sounded like a "fart". Did you then decide that all the music but your own "sounds like a fart"? Was is just a complete and total disconnect from the local music scene?

WHAT?! WHO?!!

Do you really understand what the "Average" or "Mainstream" musician goes through?

Do you understand the term "Pay To Play"? Do you understand "Buy On Tours"? Do you understand "Buying Radio Spins"?

Or, are you just pretending? Pshhhh....RIIIIIGHT

So YOU'RE the pretender now.

I think every human on the face of the earth experiences their moment, enveloped with fear, as they watch their beliefs and admiration crumble when they witness their romanitc luminary fall back to earth, as they join the seas of mortals. 

I watched you fall...I was deeply saddened...and here you will remain.

I don't think you have any idea how hard the "current musician" works these days or the sacrifices they make in order to give their music to the world.  I've sat on their RV's and tour buses, had them crash my house, fed them, and held them as they cried on my shoulder as they missed their families.

The struggle to pay the bills is real Dave, and we are the ones in this business, who struggle every day, whom once looked up to you...We now look you in the eyes and say, "SCREW OFF, PRINCESS!"

I am not alone in this decision, as I have corresponded with other distraught rock-n-roll wives across the planet.

What you may have forgotten, is there is an element that connects the souls and the spirits of all of us in music. It is the RESPECT that transcends across the genres and levels of success that each individual musician has been gifted. It is all about supporting one another...to make music matter. 

It would be ideal for all of us to have access to all of the music at any time for free, but we all like to heat our homes in the winter.  We need to get paid for the music we make...or we are forced to give it all up and get jobs like...cleaning your house, detailing your cars, or screening Jack Black's pubic hairs out of your swimming pool.

I'm sorry Dave, but this is good bye. 

I have to do it for my own good. I say all of this as I stack your albums into a grey Rubbermaid tote and slide them on the shelf in the garage with hope that some day you will come to your senses.

I write this line as I wipe a single tear from my cheek, "It was good while it lasted."

God-Speed Dave, God-Speed.

From this point forward, you are just another person who doesn't care about Taylor Swift and I am a just Rock-Star wife.

I may be a metal-head at heart, but this time I choose Taylor Swift.

This is War...and I fight for the musician...not just the music.

And for the record, now that my "Crush" slot is open...It's Jared Leto until further notice.

Supporting music not egos,

Jillian Rock