At Coachella in 2024, Chappell Roan looked into the camera and declared, “I’m your favorite artist’s favorite artist.” It became an iconic line, but it also points to something sweet: even the artists we love have artists they love. Everyone has a north star.
I saw that happen in real time at Flipturn’s homecoming show in St. Augustine. Winyah, an up-and-coming South Carolina indie band, opened the show. The band had recently released its EP Right Here, Right Now, and partway through the set, lead singer Thomas Rowland told the crowd:
“In April of 2024, some of our friends invited us to go to a concert of a band we’d never heard of called Flipturn. Luke and I were just laughing, like children, because we were so overwhelmed by this amazing band. That show became a north star for us, really. Ever since then, I feel like they’ve been paving the way for bands like us. So thank you so much, Flipturn. We love you so much” (Winyah).
Rowland usually carries himself with a confident, captivating energy. But as he stood beside the band that had helped shape his ambitions, I could see something different: nerves, excitement, and the giddiness of being there with someone he admired. During Flipturn’s hit “Glistening,” lead singer Dillon Basse brought Rowland back onstage. Rowland’s eyes were shining as he danced and sang beside the band.
There’s something beautiful about standing beside the people who once seemed larger than life, then realizing they’ve made room for you as an equal. For a moment, Rowland seemed to be stepping into shoes that had once felt too big for him. I was watching one of my favorite artists welcome one of their favorite artists into the spotlight.
The admiration went both ways. Months earlier, I’d seen Mt. Joy at the same amphitheater, where Basse opened as a solo artist. During its set, Mt. Joy brought Flipturn onstage to perform “Silver Lining.” For a moment, Flipturn got to share the stage with a band it also looked up to.
Maybe these musicians have plenty of other influences, too. But there’s something special about seeing admiration turn into a shared moment: the artist who once inspired you making room for you beside them.
It happens beyond our local music scene, too. Nessa Barrett has called Lana Del Rey her favorite artist, and Lana brought her onstage at the 2024 Hangout Festival to perform “American Jesus.” Bruce Springsteen joined The Gaslight Anthem onstage, then invited singer Brian Fallon to perform “No Surrender.” Brandi Carlile has described Elton John as a childhood hero; years later, they became friends and collaborators.
Billie Eilish brought Paramore frontwoman Hayley Williams, whom she has called a childhood idol, onstage at Coachella to sing “Misery Business” and “Happier Than Ever.” Dave Grohl, a self-described Beatles fanatic, got to perform “I Saw Her Standing There” with Paul McCartney in London in 2015. And at Glastonbury in 2025, Olivia Rodrigo shared the stage with Robert Smith of The Cure, one of her heroes.
The details differ, but the feeling is familiar: someone whose work mattered to you is suddenly there beside you, making room for you in their world. For a few minutes, the distance between inspiration and artist disappears.
The people we call our favorites are fans, too. And sometimes, they get to stand beside the people who made them want to make something.