One of the things I really enjoy doing with these Rockologist columns is recalling some of my favorite memories from decades of attending rock concerts. I've been going to concerts since I was about twelve years old, and by my most conservative estimate I've probably seen thousands of them.
My very first was a Jefferson Airplane concert back in the Sixties in Hawaii, that my mom only allowed me to attend if I was accompanied by my grandma (true story). To her credit, "Nana" was a very good sport about the whole thing — even if I doubt very much she understood any of it.
As the hippies smoked their pot, and the psychedelic lights swirled behind Grace and Marty, my Grandma — who was actually pretty hip as Grandmas go — sat politely in her seat, making sure none of the joints being passed around came anywhere near her then twelve-year-old charge.
But what I remember most about that night was the guy who played first.
He was a keyboard player named Lee Michaels, who performed on a Hammond organ, backed only by a bank of Marshall amps and this drummer named Frosty. It was really loud, it didn't make a lot of sense, and it was also really great. Michaels, who would have a hit a few years later with the song "Do Ya' Know What I Mean," was the first of my many memorable experiences of being surprised by the opening act at a concert.
For many concert-goers, the opening act is an afterthought at best. It's what the rest of the crowd is doing while you're across the street getting a pre-concert buzz at the nearest bar, or who is finishing up as you're showing up at the last minute to find your seat. Conversely, there is also a certain breed of concert snob who will tell you they are only there to see the opening band, as in "Screw U2, I'm just here to see PJ Harvey."
Sound familiar?
Some bands don't use opening acts at all. Every time I've seen Led Zeppelin or Bruce Springsteen, for example, it's always been billed as "an evening with" the headliner. Although, I know for a fact that Bruce once opened for Chicago early in his career. Hell, Jimi Hendrix's first American tour was as the support act for the Monkees.
My point here is, if you've been going to rock shows as long as I have, sometimes an opening act will surprise you.
I can remember, for example, seeing Jethro Tull on their tour for Aqualung, where the opening band was a band then still largely unheard of called Yes. This was one of the rare occasions I can ever recall where the openers were not only called back for an encore, but where Tull's people eventually had to run out and pathetically ask the crowd if "anybody here has ever heard of Jethro Tull?"
Article comments
1 - Tim Hall
I always make an effort to see the support band - often they're not very good, but occasionally you do run into a great band you otherwise might never have got to see.
Most UK venues nowadays let you take drinks into the hall; so you don't have to miss the opening act for the sake of a beer.
Very few gigs I've been to purely to see the opening act, and each time I've stayed and enjoyed the headliner. But I can think of a few where the choice of opening act has influenced my decision to go to a gig - one example was when Styx supported Deep Purple a couple of years back. In the event, they blew the headliners off stage.
2 - El Bicho
off the top of my head, opening bands at the start of their careers, not in a co-headlining or "special guest" capacity: Pearl Jam, NIN, Rage v Machine (didn't even have an album out yet), Marilyn Manson, Primus, Kings of Leon, Garbage, Sonic Youth...I may be back to this
3 - Glen Boyd
That's quite an impressive list Bicho. A big one that I completely forgot when putting together mine was Stevie Wonder. I saw him open up for the Stones on the Exile On Main Street tour, and he damn near blew Mick, Keith and the boys off the stage.
-Glen