The Church of AC/DC

INTRODUCTION

There's no occassion for writing this, other than I have given a lot of thought to this band - probably more than is deserved - and now that I have a blog, I can put it all down in one place.

The subject is AC/DC. For a long time after I first heard them, I thought they were a joke: stupidly macho, boringly simplistic, and musically out of touch and old-fashioned when compared to other 80s hard rock groups like Metallica. My first impressions weren't completely inaccurate. A lot of the great rock bands like The Beatles or Led Zeppelin showcased their brilliance in the compelling variety of music they created. There are many groups who have been more musically artistic. Several bands have stronger lyrics, better individual talent, or pushed themselves to grow one album to the next. But when you talk about fundamental rock and roll - pure, primal rocking out - I submit to you that no one does it better than AC/DC.

AC/DC doesn't have ballads. They don't vary their instrumentation. They don't update their sound, follow trends, or change their musical direction. Their drummer plays the same simple 4/4 beat in nearly every song (yet I can't think of any drummer who makes that beat sound better, or who plays it with more care and concentration). In each and every song, they are purely and simply about rocking out. And usually, they hit the mark.

AC/DC has been accused of writing the same song over and over, and they have admitted to it. But isn't that what most artists try? Whether a musician, a novelist, or a director, many auteurs have a singular kind of artistic intent, and try to perfect that intent in every instance of their work. AC/DC's intent happens to be the Platonic form of rock.

AN EAR-OPENING EXPERIENCE

I can mark the exact hour and day when my opinion of AC/DC changed. My friend Mike and I were in a record store when 100 tickets to AC/DC's upcoming show in Charlotte were released early. Being a fan, Mike insisted we buy them since it was guaranteed we'd get great seats, and I figured I might as well go if I could see a famous band up close. We were second in line and got seats in the middle of the second row. It was cool, but I didn't have any expectations I would enjoy the concert beyond having great seats.

It was January 13, 1996 when AC/DC played the Charlotte Coliseum on their "Ballbreaker" tour. Mike and I sat at the very front of a 20,000 seat audience. I can remember how amazing all those people looked behind us, virtually the same view the band would have as they're playing. After the opening band finished, there was a huge set piece with a wrecking ball that knocked over the stoned facade of a building, and AC/DC walked out on stage. The drummer clicked four slow quarter notes on the high hat, and the band started playing "Back in Black."

I was 18 years old in 1996. I'd seen a few concerts, and have seen many since. I played electric guitar and, at the time, was a passionate fan of shredder guitarists (guys who were very technically proficient on the instrument, but usually not good songwriters) mainly because I thought classical music was better than anything, and erroneously thought all music should aspire to the same level. As a result, I wasn't into bands whom I thought were simple rock bands. But when these guys came out on stage and started playing their simple rock songs, an involuntary smile crossed my face. I was witnessing soulfully played rock and roll in its purest form, and it got me. The band delivered a divine groove with sincerety and warmth. They weren't about showboating, or trying to impress, or enjoying their own superstardom. They were about rock and roll. I could see it up close, on their faces. They loved playing this stuff, and it was contagious. They were endearing in their shamelessness. It was sincerely delivered, and a whole lot of fun.

I stood the entire show. Even though I didn't own any of their albums, I somehow knew every song. The setlist was a crowd-pleasing collection of their greatest hits. There was no egotistical posturing, no self-indulgent performances of obscure tracks. The band had a blue collar attitude that they were supposed to put on a show for the ticket-buying audience. I realized that what I thought were stupidly macho lyrics were really just tongue-in-cheek irreverant fun. What I had believed were boring riffs communicated clearly and mightily when played at a high volume. And what I'd considered old-fashioned, out of touch music was really bluesy, universally familiar, and irresistibly timeless songwriting. AC/DC was a feel-good groove band whose drummer smoked cigarettes as he played.

After the show, I was in a bliss. I hated to admit to myself that this was a better show than the Metallica concert I'd seen just a few months ago. Metallica was my favorite band at the time, but I'd just been introduced to a band whom I'd eventually come to love and respect much more. And it was all because I happened to be in the right record store at the right time.

In future posts on this topic, I'm going to go a little academic on AC/DC and start analyzing them...