CD Odyssey Disc 1017: ACDC

Observant readers will note that I’ve changed my profile photo. Gone is that short-haired excitable fellow in the Bruins jersey, replaced with this photo of me looking like I fell out of a Richard Linklater movie.

Disc 1017 is…Back in Black

Artist: ACDC

Year of Release: 1980

What’s up with the Cover? This may be simple, but it is one of rock and roll’s most iconic album covers ever. Its coolness has stood the test of time and then some.

How I Came To Know It: I have known this album since I was a kid. Everyone had it, and everyone loved it where I came from, at least everyone who mattered.

How It Stacks Up:  I have nine ACDC albums. Many regard “Back in Black” as the best, and in many ways it is a three way tie for top spot, but I didn’t create this section of the blog to equivocate. I’m going to put “Back in Black” in at a respectable third best, behind only “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” (reviewed back at Disc 619), and “Highway to Hell” (not yet reviewed).

Ratings: 4 stars

There aren’t many bands that can lose their iconic lead singer and then immediately follow that loss up with one of their best records. Really the only two that come to mind are Black Sabbath’s “Heaven and Hell” and “Back in Black” and both were released in 1980. There must’ve been something in the water that year: something awesome.

“Back in Black” is balls-to-the-wall rock and roll that takes no prisoners. The record begins with the iconic echoing of four bells that announces “Hells Bells.” It is the album’s only long deep breath, and the last chance for the listener to take one, because within a couple of bars “Hells Bells” has launched into the quintessential riff-driven hurricane that is ACDC. For the next forty minutes “Back in Black” will pin you in your chair and rock you from the lower spine up to the cerebellum. Don’t worry about the frontal lobes; they are of limited value here.

“Back in Black” came out in the wake of tragedy, shortly after the band’s long-time frontman Bon Scott’s untimely death earlier the same year. New vocalist Brian Johnson’s singing style couldn’t be more different than the man he would replace. Johnson is rough, straightforward and solid in pocket, a straight rod of steel compared to the sleazy, lascivious and serpentine style of Scott.

I fully admit that overall I prefer Scott’s vocals, and I can’t help but wonder what the songs on “Back in Black” would sound like with him at the helm; presumably quite a bit different, though equally awesome. However, Brian Johnson brings something fresh and wonderful to the band. His pounding style makes this ACDC’s heaviest record to date, and the way he rides high on the beat gives the music another level of urgency and intensity. I miss Scott when I’m thinking about the album, but it is impossible to deny the glory of Johnson when I’m listening to it.

This album was huge when I was in high school. Even though it was released three years before I got there, “Back in Black” had staying power. From Grade 8 through Grade 12 you could hear this record at every house party, and in every passing muscle car. In fact, one of my fondest memories was listening to the title track in the 1973 Malibu that belonged to my friend Rob’s older brother, Tom.

Tom had modified the Malibu with a blower on the motor so big that he had to remove the car’s hood to fit it on. That was cool enough, but he’d also modified the back of the interior to fit in two home stereo tower speakers, mounted into a piece of plywood. I was relegated to the back seat with the little brother, and when that tell-tale “chk chk chk chk” of the title track’s guitar came on I would feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise with anticipation. When the signature riff kicked in Rob and I would be literally lifted out of our seats with the thump. It was sublime.

That was a magical experience, driving down the town’s only main road, “Back in Black” pounding away, and the sun streaming in on us as girls turned their heads (admittedly to look at Rob’s brother, but whatever). The visceral power of that song – as perfect now as the day I first heard it – recaptures that feeling every time.

If you’re looking for lyrical significance, this album is not for you, but that doesn’t mean the lyrics aren’t deliciously ridiculous. These are songs about rockin’ hard, drinkin’ hard and chasin’ girls with the time in between. Their most romantic gesture is “Let Me Put My Love Into You” and their subtlest metaphor is “Given the Dog a Bone.” The latter song doesn’t even use the right “given”.

On “You Shook Me All Night Long” you will learn about ACDC’s vision of female beauty:

“She was a fast machine

She kept her motor clean

She was the best damn woman I had ever seen

She had the sightless eyes

Telling me no lies

Knockin' me out with those American thighs”

I’ve never been sure what “American thighs” are all about, but it sounded good back in the day. Less so, “the sightless eyes” but maybe those were the awe-filled stares of all those pretty girls checking out Tom’s ’73 Malibu. Or maybe the song is actually about a car - that seems just as likely.

The closest the album comes to deep thinking is the final track, the slower and bluesy “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” where Johnson rasps out:

“Cause rock 'n' roll ain't no riddle man

To me it makes good, good sense”

Indeed it does, Brian, indeed it does. Coming at the end of the record, “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” is a reminder that you just listened to some kick ass rock music and you shouldn’t overthink it. If anything, you should just play it again, only louder.

Best tracks: Hells Bells, What Do You Do For Money Honey, Back in Black, You Shook Me All Night Long, Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution