There aren't many rock stars I'd actually want to be roommates with. Elvis Presley would always be clogging the toilet. Mick Jagger would always be sleeping with my dates. Ozzy Osbourne would constantly be trying to eat my hamster. And David Bowie would be forever taping black cellophane over the windows, turning the garbage into art installations, and muttering "gleep, glorp, gleep" in his sleep.

Dave Grohl, on the other hand, would be a pretty terrific roommate. He'd be down with ordering a pizza any night of the week, and he wouldn't require any stupid vegetarian toppings. He'd always invite me along whenever he and Paul McCartney go out drinking. And he'd always laugh loudly at all my jokes, even the really lame one about Kim Davis working the Taco Bell drive-thru. ("Bro, that was sick!" he'd say, high-fiving me and giving me one of his extra hollowed-out Grammys to store my weed in.)

Which is why I feel bad whenever Dave and his band, Foo Fighters, play a show—as they're doing this week at the Gorge Amphitheater. I want to be supportive. I want to be a pal. But do I really have to go and see them play? Uggggh. It's not that I don't love Dave. I do. He's done some great things that've gotten me through hard times, particularly his contributions to Cat Power's You Are Free and his drumming on Nirvana's In Utero. (Dave and I both agree that Nevermind is hella overrated.)

But his band...? They're just okay. I haven't actually seen them play a million times—only once, actually, at Sasquatch—but it sure feels like it. They've been on the radio constantly since 1995, and have been a pervasive, unrelenting presence elsewhere, littering awards shows and music documentaries, hanging out with heroes like Tom Petty and Dolly Parton and Ian MacKaye.

Look. I'm not trying to be a bad pretend roommate here. When Dave fell off the stage in Sweden and broke his leg, I was the first one sending imaginary flowers and theoretical get-well cards. And that special throne he designed to sit in onstage while his leg healed? Fucking boss.

And for real, I don't want you to walk away with the wrong impression of my buddy Dave. He's an amazing guy, truly—just watch the New York City episode of his HBO show, Sonic Highways. There's a bit where a kid recognizes him on the street, and what does Dave do? Brings the kid and his entire family into the studio and lets them hang out with the band as they're recording their new album. Solid, class-act move.

Maybe it's because Dave Grohl is such a nice, friendly, sociable, considerate guy—maybe that's why Foo Fighters have such a long catalog of music that isn't anything more than reasonably okay. Maybe if Dave were just a little more of a dick, his music would become a lot more interesting. Lord knows I found that out the hard way when Prince lived here. I still haven't washed all the purple out of the cat.