AC/DC tears up arena with explosive salute

Never the darlings of the critical establishment, and written off as “caveman rock” by altrock snobs for several decades, AC/DC still managed to become one of the most successful rock bands of all time, selling some 300 million albums since its early ’70s inception.

Sunday evening, several generations of AC/DC fans convened in HSBC Arena to bear witness to the enduring power of the band’s bad boy boogie.

Now with a median age of nearly 60, the Australian band simply tore the place apart with its raunchy take on old school rock ’n’ roll. Louder than one would’ve thought possible, tighter than all get out, and deliciously sleazy, AC/DC pulled songs from every corner of its fabled career, blessed us with a fair bit of its latest album, the visceral smackdown “Black Ice,” and concluded by blasting fully functional cannons at the crowd during its anthemic final encore, “For Those About To Rock (We Salute You).”

The core of the band is, as ever, the twin guitar team of brothers Angus and Malcolm Young. The siblings write the songs, and split the bloody red meat assault of the sonic attack that is the trademark of the band’s sound — Angus, dressed in his school boy’s uniform, handling the molten blues-based guitar solos and bobbing about the stage like a problem child with a few gallons of Jolt cola pumping through his veins, while Malcolm roots the band with the metronomelike precision of his right hand.

The rhythm section of bassist Cliff Williams and drummer Phil Rudd plays a four-on-the-floor rhythm that is deceptively simple. Making this music do the AC/DC version of “swing” is no mean feat, and requires playing absolutely nothing that is not integral to the song.
Atop all of this, singer Brian Johnson howls like a man possessed, his thick Scottish brogue tinting every blues yelp that emanates from his throat with an emphatic fiendishness.
After a fairly naughty animated introductory montage, the band launched into “Rock ’n’ Roll Train,” the opening number from “Black Ice,” and the place just plain exploded. Heavy on the hooks, completely fat-free, and deliciously nasty, this tune is already a hard rock classic.
The band’s first era — prior to the death by alcohol poisoning of original singer Bon Scott —was celebrated early with the swanky strut of “Hell Ain’t A Bad Place To Be,” and then the band started cranking out songs that are rightly considered among the most memorable of the rock era.

“Back In Black” is a sledgehammer to the head, but also lithe and funky; “Thunderstruck,” heard often in this same building as a crowd-pumper during Sabres games, was now an onslaught of molten Angus guitar licks and cranium-rattling drum accents; “Shoot To Thrill” moved with menace, like Led Zeppelin if the band had been a troop of punky teenagers.
If Johnson’s voice has grown a bit thinner with age, he has adjusted to his sightly reduced capabilities, and still sings with soul and muscle.

AC/DC does not sound like a band facing down senior citizenship.
The show, like the band’s music, was bombastic and deliriously over-the-top — explosions, inflatable tattooed women, and enough high voltage amplification to wake the dead, all presented with tongue firmly in cheek and fist raised high.
Hard rock ’n’ roll gets no better than this.

Concert Review

AC/DC

Sunday night in HSBC Arena.

By Jeff Miers
NEWS POP MUSIC CRITIC