The forgotten rock bands who opened for legends and never made it
The opening slot was once rock's great proving ground. Bands rolled into empty arenas, soundchecked to road cases, then played thirty-five minutes to a restless crowd. If they caught lightning, a label might call. If not, they drove home with a tank of fuel and a pay cheque that barely covered the van.
A precious few openers filled arenas themselves. Rush warmed up crowds for Blue Öyster Cult in 1974. AC/DC's Bon Scott once fronted The Valentines, who opened for acts as varied as The Saints and the Lobby Loyde band. For every success, dozens played their hearts out and went back to arvo gigs.
Down Under, the rock ecosystem was even more brutal. Acts clawed through sticky-carpet venues like Melbourne's Tote Hotel, Sydney's Hordern Pavilion, and the old Festival Hall in Brisbane. Triple J might spin a single for a fortnight, the local rock press would run a half-page, and then the headliner walked on.
This is a tour through some of rock's most intriguing support slots, the bands that almost became household names, the demos that sat in warehouses for decades, and where to find them now.
The slot before the headliner
| Band | Year | Legend supported | Track left behind | What happened next |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Dust | 1969 | Led Zeppelin | "Chasin' Shadows" 7-inch | One single, split by 1971 |
| Teaze | 1976 | KISS | "Sweet Misery" | Three Canadian LPs, faded by 1983 |
| The Jetz | 1977 | Cheap Trick | "Girls In The City" | Two Aussie singles, folded by 1980 |
| The Valentines | 1977 | AC/DC | "I Don't Wanna Be Lonely" | Members joined Hunters & Collectors |
The pattern is striking. A tour, a tape, maybe a single, then silence. The headliner's management owned the bus, the gear, and the schedule. The opener was little more than a warm body filling the early-evening gap.
1970s arena rock warm-ups
By the mid-seventies, arena rock was a machine. Openers had to sound like a smaller version of the headliner without upstaging them. Dust, a New York quartet, opened two US legs for Led Zeppelin in 1969 and were promised the world. They cut one Elektra single, the label declined an album, and the band split.
Teaze had a similar run. The Ontario group toured with KISS in 1976 and 1977, played to half a million people, and walked away with three solid Canadian hard rock LPs. The records never got proper US distribution, the drummer quit, the singer joined a country act, and the thing collapsed by 1983.
Australian pub circuit hopefuls
Australian bands rarely got a sniff at big overseas tours, so they built their own. The Jetz, out of western Sydney, spent 1977 and 1978 opening for Cheap Trick, The Saints, and AC/DC, cutting two singles for Alberts and earning a rabid local following. The label refused a full album and the members were back in the servo queue by 1980.
The Valentines were the more fascinating case. Featuring a young Bon Scott, they toured relentlessly through 1977 and built a strong live reputation in Melbourne and Sydney. The band folded in 1979, and most members drifted into Hunters & Collectors. Their singles remain sought-after on the local collectors' market, and readers with first-hand memories are encouraged to reach out through the contact page.
The punk and new wave openers
Punk democratised the opening slot. The Quick, a Los Angeles power pop group, toured with The Ramones in 1977 and released one LP before splitting. It is a cult favourite now, but at the time it sold fewer than ten thousand copies and the band was gone by 1981.
Brisbane acts toured with The Saints in the late seventies and produced one-off singles that still turn up at record fairs across the eastern suburbs. None translated their live energy into proper records, and the law of the small room still applied to every last one of them.
Why the deal never closed
An A&R scout signed them on the back of a single performance, then lost interest when the debut stalled. A touring partner treated them as disposable, scheduling tiny support slots with no promotion. A key member quit, or moved interstate for a real job. The band was usually the right idea at the wrong moment.
Major labels in the seventies treated openers like a free option. A scout would take notes at the soundcheck, and if the band failed to deliver a hit single within a year, the contract would be quietly allowed to lapse. Bands were dropped so often that some never even received a final royalty statement.
Where to find these lost recordings
The internet has dragged some of these acts back from the basement. The singles archive is a starting point, while dedicated rock platforms like this rock archive surface rare cuts that never made it to streaming.
Bootleg traders have pieced together complete tour recordings, Triple M's Classic Rock segment occasionally plays a forgotten B-side on a Sunday afternoon, and Discogs is a bazaar for the original pressings.
The long shadow of the support slot
Every great headliner was once a nervous opener. AC/DC played half-empty Adelaide rooms before Bon Scott set foot on a stadium stage. The Ramones worked CBGB for years before filling European festivals. The opening slot is a privilege and a trap. A great band uses it as a launch pad, a merely good band disappears into it.
The forgotten openers of the seventies and eighties deserve a second listen, even if it takes serious digging through dusty racks in a Brunswick op shop. Almost-made-it is its own kind of magic.
The submissions desk accepts tips from across the country, and the next great rock discovery could be on a shelf in a Geelong garage or a record bin in Fitzroy, waiting for someone to spin it twice.