The year was 1985. Ronald Reagan was sworn in for a second term. Keira Knightley, Reggie Bush, Evan Longoria, Frankie Munoz are born, (now don’t you feel old?). Tetris is released, the Tommy Hilfinger brand is established, and AC/DC released their tenth studio album, (if you remember LPs, you ARE old), named Fly on the Wall.

Compared to several previous works like, Highway to Hell, Back in Black, and For Those about to Rock, this album was fairy lackluster. Still, it didn’t persuade a 19 year old PSU sophomore with hair half way down his back from wanting to…er….needing to beg, borrow & scrounge up enough cash, (about $35-40 bucks at that time), to get a ticket to see one of his idols in concert.

He did manage to get a ticket, and enough to buy a $20 concert shirt, (also a lot of money at that time), and in turn, he was promptly blown away by the sound, the antics of the lead guitarist, the pyrotecnics, the props, and the fact that to date it was quiet possibly the loudest show he has ever been to.

Twenty three years later, with his 16 year old daughter and girlfriend in tow, (boy how things change), and with a $100 ticket in hand, (and change is good?), that same excitement was still there. The hair is a lot shorter, and the cut-off denim jacket over leather jacket has been replaced by a plain brown t-shirt, but inside the rock and roll animal is still an ever energetic teen, (just with an aching back).

Contrary to the rave reviews of the tour, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. First, I feel this CD, Black Ice, (they are called CDs now children), is good but not great. Second, the members of the band are friggin’ old. Angus and Malcolm are 53 and 55 respectively, with lead singer Brian Johnson almost able to collect social security at 61. Needless to say, I was going in with an understanding that the show wouldn’t be the same as the ones I saw in years past.

Boy was I wrong. From the opening animated video of a runaway rock and roll train with a devilish Angus Young stoking the fire regardless of the attempts of  suggestively drawn women trying to stop him, to last resonating note of Angus’ Gibson SG and six barrel cannon barrage of For Those About to Rock the show did nothing lest than kick ass. Angus might look old but he proved to be just as spry and energetic as ever, never slowing down for a straight 105 minutes, and all while delivering his signature power chords and one handed arpeggios. Armed with five new tunes and 13 of their classics, the lads from down under treated us to full throttle attack of balls to the wall, adrenalin pumping rock and roll. Back in Black, Dirty Deeds, Thunderstruck, (which my buddy had the bridal party enter to in his wedding on Saturday night), Whole Lotta Rosie, Hells Bells, Shoot to Thrill, You Shook Me All Night Long, Highway to Hell, TNT, Let There Be Rock and more. And as always, during The Jack, Angus did his patented strip down from his burgundy velvet school boy outfit to reveal a pair of AC/DC boxers, (available for $20 in the concourse). Cheesy as it may be, (along with the blinking devil horns for $15), it’s all part of the basic rock and roll entertainment value of an AC/DC concert. (Actually, the devil horns led to a cool light effect when the lights went down.) And as an accompaniment to the cheesy lyrics, we were treated to the usual stage show bag of tricks. From a life size train engine crashing through the stage leading into the entry song Rock and Roll Train, to a bell coming down from the rafters during Hells Bells, to flame throwers lighting up the stage in crimson & orange during Highway to Hell, to the closing cannon fire on For Those About to Rock. It’s all gooood. It’s all fun. It’s all rock and roll. And as far as it not being as loud as I remember, my hearing is worse now, so it probably was a lot louder than I thought.

The crowd itself consisted mainly of 30-50 year olds, with their kids, like me. Mostly, the adults put the kids to shame with rocking out. (Of course, they would say we embarrassed them.) One dude was there with his five year old kid. The kid had on those big industrial earmuffs that landscapers wear to protect his ears and carried a toy microphone which he sang each song into, word for friggin’ word. Talk about cute.

So whereas you don’t need to see close ups of Angus’ striptease, the bags under his eyes, bold spots of Malcolm, or Brian Johnson’s three jowls, what you do need to do is go to this concert. And even without Have a Drink on Me, or Big Balls and a no name warm up band, (or is it warm up bland?), I give this concert five crows feet.

NOTE:  My joke above about LPs now being called CDs reminded me of a funny story. A bunch of years ago, mid 90’s maybe, in my last job we use to do polyannas with a $20 limit. Typically, I always wrote down a few CDs that I wanted. One year, the person who picked my name was this sweet 100 year old woman that worked for us part time. She actually tried to buy a $20 certificate of deposit for me. Someone explained what I meant and she had no idea LPs weren’t being used anymore.

Take Care,

S