“I’m going to try to get there early and see the opener. Not sure where in the venue I’ll land. Text me when you get there.” I wanted to hang out with my friends before the Marcus King concert, pregame at a nearby bar or at another friend’s house, but I’ve become a much more intentional concert-goer as I’ve gotten older. I wanted to get there early, find a good place to plant myself, and watch the opener.

I love an opening act! And one of the most impactful opening acts I’ve seen in more than forty years of concert-going was Twisted Sister. Now, I’m not a massive fan of that 80’s metal band with the clever videos. I thought they were OK, and I was indifferent to knowing they would open for my favorite band at fifteen years old: Iron Maiden. Twisted Sister were fine, playing their hits, I suppose, but their legendary lead singer Dee Snider screamed something to the crowd mid-set that I’ve never forgotten: “Stand up! You can’t rock and roll sitting down!” My buddy Victor and I dutifully stood up, midway into the second deck, and goddammit, Dee was right. I immediately felt better. I was way more into it, and it was a lesson I’ve never forgotten. You can’t rock and roll sitting down.

At five-foot-seven and fifty-five years old, I have two things going for me. I’m on the shorter side, so I want a spot at the venue where I can see well. I’m also on the older side, so I want something to lean on. And since I live by Dee Snider’s creed—you can’t rock and roll sitting down—I need to be standing up. For several hours if necessary. Since I like to be close to the stage, this leaves one spot in a given venue: The Rail.

At some local venues, you can get right up to the stage, but those are typically smaller places like Harlow’s, with lower stages. At larger venues—your typical 1,000+ capacity room—you actually want the rail there, rather than risk getting crushed against a four-and-a-half-foot stage. The rail is absolutely the best spot to be. You can lean on it, sometimes set merch down on the other side of it, and occasionally even get wait service. True, going to the restroom or grabbing beers can be a drag, depending on the size and density of the crowd. But typically, if you’re cool and polite—and you return by the same path you left—you can get right back to your spot.

At countless shows I’ve seen people leave the rail for the restroom, never to return, daunted by the trip back. I get it, but I think they’re amateurs. I’ve also met cool people on the rail; sometimes the same folks at different shows. At times we follow each other on social media. The last guy I met on the rail gave me a ride home, coincidentally living right around the corner, saving me a twenty-dollar Lyft ride.

So, on my way to see that Marcus King show, as much as I wanted to hang out with my friends, I knew that—by their timeline—they would miss the opener and stroll into the show right before the headliner, King, and be standing in the back somewhere. This is no good for people like me, who want to be close, unobstructed, with something to lean on. That’s why I said no to the pregame and arrived solo at the show. It was an incredible night, and no small part of it was meeting the fellow solo concertgoer on the rail, who ended up giving me a ride home. Another big part of it was the opener, Angel White.

White hails from Texas, and he embodies the spirit of blues, rock, country, and folk wrapped in one intense package. He’s a good guitar player and an amazing singer-songwriter, while the lead guitarist—the only white dude in the band—was an absolute shredder. (The latter looked and dressed like the guy working the counter at an ammo shop in South Nashville, but my Lord, he could slay that Gibson.) White had the entire 2,000+ crowd at Channel 24 in the palm of his hand. I don’t think any of us had ever heard of him, although I’d given his stellar album Ghost of the West a good listen earlier in the day and loved it. He demolished the entire crowd; you could tell he knew it—and we knew it.

This is why live music is my church—my spiritual place. I’m so moved at times I can feel tears welling up, and occasionally they spill out. Strangely, this happens more often when I’m unfamiliar with an artist than when I hear a favorite song by a beloved band. Don’t get me wrong—I love those moments too. But sometimes an unknown musician bares their soul to a crowd in a way that feels intensely personal to me. It’s truly a religious experience. The artist is at the top of their game, perfecting their craft. Even as an opener, it’s a beautiful thing to witness. I can’t always contain myself.

As a teenager, I mainly went to big arena shows: Iron Maiden, Scorpions, Judas Priest, Ozzy Osbourne, The Stones, The Who, David Bowie, Robert Plant, Pink Floyd without Roger Waters, Roger Waters without Pink Floyd, Boston, U2, and Aerosmith. I don’t remember many opening acts during these years, but the ones I do were memorable: Twisted Sister (Maiden), Metallica (Ozzy), Lenny Kravitz (Bowie), The Pretenders (U2), and Guns ‘N Roses (Aerosmith). Back then I didn’t know many small bands that were still playing in clubs, and I was often too young to get into those places even if I did.

As I said earlier, although I was never a big Twisted Sister fan, Dee Snider’s admonition that one cannot rock and roll while sitting down has stayed with me for a lifetime. Metallica—hard as it is to believe they were ever an opener—crushed on the Master of Puppets tour, preceding an outstanding Ozzy show in support of his Ultimate Sin tour. Lenny Kravitz was off the chain opening for the inimitable David Bowie at Dodger Stadium, and the Pretenders were outstanding before my first of three eventual U2 concerts—one of five nights at the L.A. Sports Arena, just months before U2 became a huge stadium act. Guns N’ Roses crushed it as Aerosmith’s opener, nearly outshining the older band, and it was probably the last time they opened for anybody.

These days, I go to very few big shows like that. The Greek in Berkeley, at 8,500 capacity, is probably the largest venue I regularly attend. By regularly, I mean at least twice a year or so. Minus a couple of Golden 1 Center shows in the last few years—Dinosaur Jr. and The Flaming Lips opening for Weezer was memorable—and the occasional Shoreline Amphitheater gig (Eric B. & Rakim opening for Wu-Tang Clan, and Pixies opening for Weezer), the vast majority of my shows are small: Harlow’s (capacity 500), Starlet Room (capacity 300), Ace of Spaces (capacity 1,000), the new Channel 24 (capacity 2,100), not to mention the tiny Old Ironsides shows, and those at Press Club, Golden Bear, Cafe Colonial, Goldfield’s, and the defunct Holy Diver and Russ Room. These venues hold a couple hundred people, tops. And sometimes, you run into some terrific openers!

Occasionally, I go to a show solely for the opener and even tell myself I’m going to leave right after they play. But I never do. I wasn’t a John Prine fan until I saw Josh Ritter open for him at the Memorial Auditorium. I came for Ritter and told myself I’d leave after his set—which was stellar, by the way. On my way out, I ran into my friend Michael, who implored me to stay for Prine. It was the best advice I ever received. Prine was sublime, and I finally understood all the fuss about him. He remains a favorite to this day, and I’m grateful I got to see him that one time, as the legend is no longer with us. But if not for his opener that night, Josh Ritter, I’d likely still be ignorant of John Prine’s brilliance.

Another time, I went to Harlow’s for John Wesley Harding—aka Wesley Stace—opening for Steven Page, the former frontman of Barenaked Ladies. Harding was a bucket-list artist for me, and he played a stellar, short set. He signed the record I bought that night, shook my hand, and graced me with a lovely, brief chat. But I stayed for Page, who was terrific, although I can’t say I’ve given him much thought since.

Sometimes an opener utterly blows the audience away. Even if they don’t technically steal the show, you can easily imagine a co-headlining tour. Radkey was one of these artists for me, opening for The Descendents at Ace of Spades several years ago. I like The Descendents, but I mainly went because my buddy Jeff dragged me along. However, I loved the opener so much that I ended up seeing them two more times in California—though never again the Descendents. Sadly, Radkey doesn’t get to the West Coast often.

Likewise, Sasami rocked the same venue opening for Japanese Breakfast, and then worked her own merch booth. I bought her album, spoke to her for a couple of minutes, and I’ve been a fan ever since. Same with Phoebe Bridgers opening for Conor Oberst in Nevada City, before she achieved small “s” superstardom. I felt badly, as I actually purchased a Conor Oberst T-Shirt (lost in Austin, long ago), from Phoebe Bridgers, rather than one of Phoebe’s own shirts or albums, but she rung up my purchase, nevertheless, and was incredibly gracious and cool.

I wrote about Lydia Loveless in a couple of different pieces on this site. She is probably the clearest example an opener creating a lifelong fan after a single concert. When she opened for the late, great, Justin Townes Earle at Harlow’s, I was already out of my mind before the show began. I had done my homework on Lydia—something always worth doing for an opener, to be discussed in more depth later—and was enraptured by her singing, songwriting, and musicianship after watching Who Is Lydia Loveless? about a week before the gig.

She played alone, acoustically, and I’ve seen her three other times since then, twice in San Francisco (once, again as an opener, at a bigger venue, supporting The Mountain Goats), and once again in Sacramento. I always end up talking to her guitar player, Todd May, and the last time I saw Lydia I got to hang out and shoot the breeze with her and the band and other friends for 15-20 minutes after the show. I tried not to fanboy too hard. I didn’t ask for a picture or for her to sign anything, but it remains the thrill of a lifetime. I hope to catch her again soon.

Jonny “2 Bags” Wickersham opened for Justin Townes Earle in Sacramento at Goldfield’s just a few months before Justin passed away. Jonny played a great set, and I talked to him for a good while after the show, asking him questions about his time in Social Distortion, another favorite of mine. Well, I hadn’t done my homework before the show, and I had FORGOTTEN that Jonny played in The Cadillac Tramps, an incredible rock/punk act from L.A. that never hit it too big. They only made two or three records, and the band members eventually went their separate ways. I saw The Cadillac Tramps just once at the Sacramento’s venerable Cattle Club, stunned by Jonny’s sizzling guitar work and legendary lead singer Gabby Gaborno’s frenzied performance. By the time of the Justin Townes Earle gig at Goldfield’s, Gabby had passed away just a couple of years prior, and I can’t believe I talked to Jonny as long as I did without once bringing up The Cadillac Tramps or Gabby. I hadn’t thought of the Tramps in many years, and I naturally associated Jonny more with Social Distortion. The moral: DO YOUR HOMEWORK BEFORE THE GIG!

In the early ’90s, I was really into a band called Fungo Mungo (not to be confused with the Sacramento funk/groove band Mumbo Gumbo). Fungo Mungo was from Oakland, and today their music isn’t on any streaming platforms I can find—but their bass player ended up in Third Eye Blind. Fungo Mungo headlined the 975-capacity Crest Theater after a raucous Cattle Club show a few months earlier. They invited anyone who was interested to come up on stage and mosh with the band during their encore, so of course I obliged—and wore bruises for a week afterward. I still wear bruises from mosh pits at 55 years old.

But who opened for this now-forgotten band that night? None other than No Doubt, fronted, of course, by Gwen Stefani. They blew me away, and although I bought their eponymous debut CD at the merch table afterward, I set it down like an idiot and forgot it when I went to the restroom. By the time I realized my mistake, it was long gone. It stung badly—I miss that ten dollars to this day. Although I always appreciated No Doubt, I never became a huge fan. In my opinion, they were never better than when they opened for Fungo Mungo at The Crest.

One of my all-time favorite 90’s rock bands is Urge Overkill, and I saw them just once at The Cattle Club, headlining of course. The Melvins opened, and as cool as they were, it wasn’t memorable for me, as I was there for the headliner. I was starting to see more bands at smaller venues at this point in my life, and I was giddy to find myself talking to Eddie “King” Roeser, out back by the fire pit. He seemed a little high, and we talked about their recent tour opening for Pearl Jam. Eddie confessed, “Those guys are LOUD” in a pained way. Urge was plenty loud on their own at The Cattle Club, but today’s small-venue headliners are also, often, someone else’s openers, sometimes for someone as gargantuan as Pearl Jam.

Just a couple of weeks ago I saw Japanese Breakfast for the third time, this time at Channel 24. I looked up the opener, Ginger Root, before the show, and they sounded interesting, which ended up being a gross understatement. The brainchild of Southern California’s Cameron Lew, self-described musically as “aggressive elevator soul” (he’s not far off) wowed the crowd of 2000+. A touring drummer, bass player, videographer, and giant flanking TV screens filled out the stage. They put on a sublime mix of killer music, art, camp, disco, and Asian film/TV. They made two thousand new fans that night, and Michelle Zauner, Japanese Breakfast’s driving force, continued her tradition of choosing incredible opening acts.

As I peruse my small, 250-album, vinyl collection, I see so many records from bands I’ve seen as openers, and many were purchased at their opening gigs. I see some of the artists I’ve already written about here, plus a handful of others: The Breeders, Jess Cornelius, Peter Frampton (opened for Cheap Trick a few years back!!!), John Wesley Harding, Lord Buffalo, Lydia Loveless, Pixies (have opened for both U2 and Weezer), Radkey, Josh Ritter, Sasami, Sgt Splendor, and Spoon. I’m sure if I looked through my CD collection we’d find more.

This is all to say, pay attention to the openers. Buy their records and T-shirts. These folks are playing their hearts and souls out for you, and there’s a good chance you can shake their hands and chat with them for a while. Until the next show, keep your ears open, your eyes wide, and do your homework—you might discover your next favorite band.