Opening bands have it tough.
At any given concert, the vast majority of the people in the
crowd are there for the headlining band and couldn’t care
less about the groups that play beforehand. Even those who show up
early and wait in line until the doors open are usually fans of the
headliner, albeit extremely dedicated ones who are willing to fight
for a position right up front.
I made the rush-hour commute to Pomona last week to see TV on
the Radio play at The Glass House. The opening band was a San
Franciso-based quartet called The Ohsees, a group fronted by John
Dwyer of Coachwhips’ semi-fame.
When The Ohsees came on stage at 9 p.m., a crowd of about 100
people (most of us waiting patiently to worship at the feet of TV
on the Radio) had gathered before the stage. They kicked off their
set with a few songs from their new album “The Cool Death of
Island Raiders,” and my friends and I gave each other looks
of approval, pleasantly surprised by their performance.
But when I looked around us, I noticed that all the band was
getting from others were blank stares and crossed arms. This was
fun, quality music, but as far as I could see, the only feet in the
audience that were tapping to the beat belonged to my friends.
After they left the stage, I heard someone nearby say that the
end of The Ohsees’ set meant we were several minutes closer
to seeing TVOTR.
I guarantee that I was as excited to see the headliners as
anyone in that crowd, but I realized that most of the people there
only saw the opening band as a trial to be endured, not as music to
be enjoyed.
The same thing happened to me this summer at a Red Hot Chili
Peppers concert. When The Mars Volta left the stage, half the
people in the arena let out sighs of relief. Soda And His Million
Piece Band, a solid rockabilly group that opened for The Raconteurs
last spring, also had a similar experience with the crowd.
When the audience is so focused on seeing the headliner that
they can’t enjoy the opening bands, the whole notion of the
live performance is degraded.
The consequence of this attitude is that music isn’t
treated as an experience to be shared or a discovery to be made,
but instead as a commodity to be purchased.
I’ve unearthed some of my favorite bands simply by showing
up early to a concert with an open mind. My attitude toward Feist,
Man Man, and Dr. Dog would still be one of casual ignorance had
they not opened for an artist I shelled out my hard-earned cash to
see.
In fact, in many cases, I believe that the opening bands deserve
more respect than the headliners. They’re out there every
night, making less money, setting up their own instruments and
playing to a crowd that in all probability has never heard of them,
all while trying to make enough of an impression to make it in a
cutthroat music industry.
It’s criminal how an impatient and unappreciative audience
can overlook a great opening band.
Not only are they missing the point of live music, but
they’re also forgetting the fact that almost every headlining
artist out there was, at one point, an opener too.
So I suppose the moral of the story is this: Show up early to
concerts. Listen to the opening bands. Maybe even nod your head to
the beat if you like what you hear. After all, with a little
support from their audience, there’s no telling what these
artists are capable of doing.
Duhamel’s opinion might be different if he had seen
The Blood Brothers open for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs a couple weeks ago.
E-mail him at dduhamel@media.ucla.edu.