Classic Rock Musings, Rants & Raves

By the end of the 70s, AC/DC were on the verge of superstardom. But with all the debauchery and boozing surrounding the band, the fast lane caught up with a vengeance. Lead singer Bon Scott drank himself to death, leaving the Australian outfit between a Highway to Hell and a hard place. They considered breaking up, but chose to move forward. By some miraculous streak of luck, Brian Johnson, an up-and-coming Scot who’d been paying his dues with the obscure Geordie band, became their new singer. Within five months, AC/DC produced their biggest blast of high voltage to date. It pitched a tent and settled down for almost six months in Billboard’s Top Ten. A year after its release, Back In Black was and remains to this day, the best selling hard rock album of all time.

With producer Robert “Mutt” Lange — the man who would continue to hit the charts with Def Leppard and Shania Twain — on board, AC/DC sucked it up, headed to Compass Studios in the Bahamas, and braced for a new beginning. Their vivacious manner was quicker on a dime, but still as balls-to-the-wall as ever. Perhaps taking Scott’s passing to heart, Angus and Malcolm Young mightily dish out some of their biggest and baddest riffs. The erratic yelp from Johnson is a little more soulful, and a little less reckless than his predecessor. From the get-go, it’s nonstop, fist-pumping, foot stomping shredders like “Hells Bells,” “Shoot To Thrill” and, of course, the lilting title track. The leadoff single, “You Shook Me All Night Long” is still one of the most distinctive, thunderous shakedowns in modern history.

If you’re looking for romance in something like “What Do You Do For Money Honey” or “Let Me Put My Love Into You,” you’ve bought the wrong disc. Nothing about AC/DC evokes the slightest hint of tenderness. Even when the band pays tribute to their fallen front man, they feverishly toast him with the intoxicating “Have A Drink On Me.” Just to prove they’re not going anywhere, the CD ends with “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution,” a prophetic declaration. Over 25 years later, we’re still getting this wild man in a parochial school uniform armed with a Gibson SG and stalking the stage. And when the lights come down, we flick our Bics, shudder at the camaraderie, and prepare for maximum overdrive. Let there be rock!

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