It’s been a month since I saw four of my favorite bands all perform together at Coors Field, and I can’t stop thinking about it. But not for the reasons you might assume. I mean, the show kicked huge gaping gobs of ass and is one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever been to in my life, but there’s something about it that’s sticking in my craw that I just need to exorcise right now.
It’s rare that all four bands in any lineup will align with an individual’s personal taste the way Green Day, Smashing Pumpkins, Rancid and The Linda Lindas did for me and my group of friends. I am a huge fan of all four bands, even The Linda Lindas who were the basis of last year’s Christmas card. In a lineup that size, there’s usually at least one act that I either don’t know or just flat out don’t like. But here’s the thing: I still go see all the fucking bands anyway!
And why wouldn’t I?! Yeah, I’m there to see the headliner, but it stands to reason that the headliner chose bands that they like to come on tour with them because a) they gotta listen to these tunes every night too; b) at some point the headliner was an opener themselves and a hand up is always appreciated and c) “hey if you like us, we think you’ll like these other bands too!”
Plus, it’s not like it costs extra to go see the openers! Yeah, Green Day is the band moving the lion’s share of the tickets, I’m sure Smashing Pumpkins is responsible for a good share of them too, but it’s not like you have to shell out a few more ducats to check out Rancid or The Linda Lindas. It’s not like buying supplemental insurance for a rental car. It’s bonus content! Think of it as free additional live music curated by your favorite band. It’s like the recommendations after a purchase on Amazon.com. “Hi, we’re Green Day! Thank you for buying a ticket to our show! You might also enjoy the music of Rancid and The Linda Lindas.”
In a 50,000 seat baseball stadium, The Linda Lindas started promptly at 5:30 pm. They played a very tight 20 to probably 4,000 people. Rancid started at 6:00 and played 30 minutes to maybe 10,000. By the time Smashing Pumpkins and Billy Corgan’s Nosferatu-looking ass came on at 7:00, the place was probably half to two-thirds full, a fact that only mystified me once Green Day started at like 8:30 and the place was packed to capacity. Half the fucking people didn’t even get there in time for Smashing Pumpkins?!
What was everyone doing? Having been at the entire concert, I can almost certainly guarantee you it wasn’t as good as seeing the opening three bands absolutely melt everyone’s faces off. The Linda Lindas damn near shoplifted the entire night because you’re not really expecting four teenage girls to play that heavy of punk rock while smiling wider than I’ve ever seen a live band in my life. In fact, see for yourself. Here they are playing their song “Nino,” which, yes, is about a cat.
I didn’t really know the other bands, anyway. So we just drank at home/at a bar until the bands we wanted to see came on. Cool! You do remember that at some point you didn’t know Green Day either, right? And that through some sort of alchemic sorcery, you did hear them, grew to like them, and are now paying out the ass to see them live, yes?
After talking to some friends who are in bands around town, people at stadium shows generally aren’t music fans, per se. Music is an abstraction, and concerts for these folks only happen in stadiums and arenas and amphitheaters, on special occasions, for a shitload of money. These are folks who are happy to shell out $500 to sing along to something as ubiquitous as “Wake Me Up When September Ends” with 50,000 other people because they’ve heard it 9 zillion times through sheer osmosis, but have no idea that awesome rock clubs like the Gothic, the Ogden or the Bluebird even exist in their very own city – clubs that Green Day played once upon a time, too. Never mind venues like the Marquis or Lost Lake or Globe Hall where you can get your nuts rocked off by local shredders for like $10 any old night of the fuckin’ week. Look up 924 Gilman St. in Berkeley and you’ll see where Green Day got its start playing for $5 to crust punk teenagers and alcoholic burnouts – quite the change from the theatrics and bombast of a baseball stadium tour.
Because that’s just it. Seeing the opening band or checking out a local club show is frequently an invitation to peer into the future. Here’s some fodder to illustrate that:
In 2000 I went to the Ogden to see punk band Face to Face. The first of their three support acts? New Found Glory.
In 2002 I went to the Bluebird to see ska-punk band Mad Caddies headline. Their openers? Rise Against and Yellowcard.
In 2003 I saw Beck at Red Rocks. His opener? The Black Keys.
In 2004 I again saw Face to Face at the Ogden. Their opener? My Chemical Romance.
I could go on like this, but you get the picture. And my point with this whole diatribe is not to shame anyone or make you feel guilty if you’re there to dry hump the headliner, and the headliner only, or to assert some dumbass hipster credibility about how I saw these bands before they were famous. My point is that I got to these shows early and fell in love with a bunch of new music and then got to follow along as more and more people discovered them along with me. I watched the crowd sizes grow, I got to support artists on their way up, I watched them evolve as musicians, and I got to take a really fun ride. And it didn’t cost me a single extra penny the very first night I saw them. Plus, it’s live music, the venue serves booze, you’re already with your friends… rocking out is its own reward!
I suspect 5, 10, 15 years from now when people are paying a shitload of money to see The Linda Lindas headline an arena tour, many of the people who were at Green Day will also shell out hundreds of dollars to finally see them, and maybe they’ll lie and say they saw The Linda Lindas way back when.
But will they be there for whoever opens for The Linda Lindas? Me and my crew will be. I hope you will, too.
