Great Opening Acts of a Bygone Era
Steve Polevoi
August 01, 2005
My patience has been tested in many arenas and forums, figuratively and literally. In a literal sense I speak of arenas and forums as one in the same, such as the Fabulous Forum in Inglewood, California, a venue I was weaned at. The test I’ve failed in these arenas relates to the dreaded “warm up” act at concerts. There is nothing more aggravating than going to see a favored artist or group, only to be force-fed the obligatory opening act. As a child of the “rock festival” era, it was not uncommon to have to sit through two and sometimes three warm-up groups before savoring the performers you actually came and paid to see. Today, it appears most bands and promoters do not want nor need the added costs of providing a second act. Besides, unless the band or their record label insists on promoting another act, why share the gate?
I know what you’re thinking – stop kvetching, if you don’t want to be subjected to opening acts, just show up late. This advice, unfortunately is contrary to another personality flaw I have which I’ve not improved upon, and probably never will: I’m never late. My motto is early or on-time. Concerts are unlike other ticketed events where one can rely on the start being within literal minutes of the stated time. Add the unknown variable of the opening act’s set, crowd reaction, and the very real possibility of a riot ensuing and you might as well not have planned to attend the concert in the first place.
The last major show I attended, David Bowie’s “Reality Tour,” had an opening act so dreadful and frightening that I would’ve never been able to face myself in the shaving mirror the next morning had I taken my seat in the arena prior to the Thin White Duke’s appearance. I can honestly report that I didn’t see a trace of Macy Gray, though her name was on both the ticket and in the advertisement. Truth be told I’ve probably sat through worse: Steeleye Span, waiting for Jethro Tull; Suzy Quattro, waiting for Alice Cooper, Montrose (with a young, Robert Plant-like wannabe Sammy Hager on lead vocals), waiting for Sparks. The fact is I didn’t feel the need to add Ms.Gray to the list.
During the 70s, I had the pleasure to see five opening act performances that were equally as good, if not better (and in two cases way superior) than the act I paid to see. They range from an unknown guitarist fronting an eponymous band to a group that, through various incarnations, dates back to the early 60s.
The Walter Egan Band
The eleventh and last time I saw my favorite band Procol Harum was a real treat. After years of seeing them play medium-sized venues, they were booked to play a nightclub in San Francisco. Although I lived in Los Angeles at the time, nothing would prevent me from traveling north to see the boys from Essex. I asked my cousin, who was attending Stanford, to procure tickets for us. When he called to relay the good news that two tickets were in-hand, he mentioned that “The Walter Egan Band” would be the special guest. Who? I kept real close tabs on the music scene and I had never heard of Walter Egan. Oh well, another opening act to ignore.
As much as I was looking forward to seeing the Harum in an intimate club, I was not looking forward to sitting through an opening set from some unknown entity. In the words of Allen Iverson, “We’re talking about Procol Harum!” The Egan Band was introduced, Walter, a youngish-looking thirtysomething year-old stepped to the microphone and said “We’re the Walter Egan Band, hope you like us.” If my typical sarcasm was in work mode, I’m sure I said something to the tune of “we don’t.” From the very first note of the first song, “Only the Lucky” we were treated to a fabulously fun performance. Since Egan had just released his debut LP, “Fundamental Roll,” the band played the record in its entirety, along with a few gems from an album that wouldn’t be out for a year. As soon as I returned to LA I bought the album, promoted it to whoever would listen, and was first in line when a LA show went on sale. You may remember Egan had the successful Top 10 hit “Magnet & Steel.” From the San Francisco show I knew of Egan a good year before Magnet hit the airwaves.
Lynyrd Skynyrd
This was a weird combination of music in one building at one time. Skynyrd had just released their first album, and for no other reason that they were on the same record label, they supported the Who on the Quadraphenia tour of 1973. The veterans of the English Invasion, Godfather’s of the British Punk scene, sharing the stage with a motley group of southern-fried rockers that no one had really heard of yet. The crowd was a bit hostile as one would expect, until Skynryd’s final song. I came to understand, first-hand, the now over-used “Freebird” reference; Skynryd played a rousing rendition of their tour de force hit that had the entire arena rocking. What a comeback! From being almost booed off the stage to cries for an encore all in span of about seven minutes. “Freebird!”
Peter Frampton
Frampton was the middle act on a bill headlined by The J. Geils Band. The actual opening act, Italian rockers PFM, preformed a benign 30 minute set. Frampton was far from an unknown entity, having spent several years with the band Humble Pie. His own band, Frampton’s Camel, had achieved a modicum of success. What no one knew when Frampton took the stage was that the show we’d be experiencing was the tour that produced “Frampton Comes Alive,” probably the biggest selling live album of all-time.
The energy captured on that release was evident the night I saw him. In a word – amazing.
What made the Frampton’s performance that much more memorable was how bad J. Geils Band was. The absolute worst live performance I’ve paid to see.
Rory Gallagher
The late Irish Blues guitarist/vocalist was forced to perform a two-and-a-half hour set in Santa Barbara in support of Rod Stewart & Faces because Rod and the boys were no where to be found. They hadn’t arrived via private plane from LA leaving a hue gap of time to fill. Gallagher did his standard set, came back for two encores, then returned to the stage and performed another hour after explaining that the Faces plane hadn’t yet arrived. Rod and Faces took the stage almost four hours beyond the stated start time on the tickets. They should’ve stayed in LA. Talk about mailing-in a performance; they were equally as bad as the afore-mentioned J. Geils Band.
The Florescent Leech & Eddie (Flo & Eddie)
This was an interesting band with tons of personality. Largely made up of Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman, these two characters were the co-founders of the 60’s band “The Turtles,” who produced such staples “She’d Rather Be With Me,” “You Showed Me,” and the huge hit “Happy Together.” After the Turtles broke up, Kaylan and Volman joined Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention, contributing to the very dark but very humorous “Another Band From LA,” one of the great guilty pleasures of rock. On their own as the Florescent Leech & Eddie (later shortened to Flo & Eddie) they drew from a repertoire from all their past lineups. Something about hearing the “No prices, are lower prices, than Ralph’s prices” jingle incorporated in a song sung at a rock concert stays with you decades later. Saw F&E twice in support of headliners that couldn’t keep the ever-present concert match lit to these guys. Today, Kaylan and Volman have come full circle. They now go by “The Turtles featuring Flo & Eddie,” front both a west coast and east coast version of the band, and stay busy with gigs largely at the county fair and private party circuit. They even do cruise ships. Hell, you can probably hire them to play your housewarming party or kid’s Bar Mitzvah. You can check out their demands at www.theturtles.com.
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