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An early photo of Bon & Angus! ... See MoreSee Less

An early photo of Bon & Angus!

This kid was so cool at the show! We had to bring him up on the stage to rock with us!🤘 ... See MoreSee Less

This kid was so cool at the show! We had to bring him up on the stage to rock with us!🤘

Pictures and video from the show in Yuma. ... See MoreSee Less

Pictures and video from the show in Yuma.Image attachmentImage attachment+Image attachment

Thunderstruck by AC/DC
AC/DC's Young brothers - guitarists Angus and Malcolm - wrote this song. They would often tell a story about how the song came about when Angus was flying in a plane that was struck by lightning and nearly crashed, but in the 2003 re-release of The Razors Edge, Angus explained in the liner notes: "It started off from a little trick that I had on guitar. I played it to Mal and he said, 'Oh I've got a good rhythm idea that will sit well in the back.' We built the song up from that. We fiddled about with it for a few months before everything fell into place.
Lyrically, it was really just a case of finding a good title, something along the lines of 'Powerage' or 'Highway To Hell.' We came up with this thunder thing and it seemed to have a good ring to it. AC/DC = Power. That's the basic idea."
According to The Story of AC/DC: Let There Be Rock, Angus Young created the distinctive opening guitar part by playing with all the strings taped up, except the B. It was a studio trick he learned from his older brother George Young, who produced some of AC/DC's albums and was in a band called The Easybeats.
This song marked a return to form for AC/DC, whose previous three albums didn't generate any blockbusters. It was the song that set the tone for the album, a truly thunderous track that electrified the crowd as the opening number on The Razors Edge tour. The apostrophe-free album title gels with the song: Australians call the dark clouds of an approaching storm "the razor's edge."
... See MoreSee Less

Thunderstruck by AC/DC
AC/DCs Young brothers - guitarists Angus and Malcolm - wrote this song. They would often tell a story about how the song came about when Angus was flying in a plane that was struck by lightning and nearly crashed, but in the 2003 re-release of The Razors Edge, Angus explained in the liner notes: It started off from a little trick that I had on guitar. I played it to Mal and he said, Oh Ive got a good rhythm idea that will sit well in the back. We built the song up from that. We fiddled about with it for a few months before everything fell into place.
Lyrically, it was really just a case of finding a good title, something along the lines of Powerage or Highway To Hell. We came up with this thunder thing and it seemed to have a good ring to it. AC/DC = Power. Thats the basic idea.
According to The Story of AC/DC: Let There Be Rock, Angus Young created the distinctive opening guitar part by playing with all the strings taped up, except the B. It was a studio trick he learned from his older brother George Young, who produced some of AC/DCs albums and was in a band called The Easybeats.
This song marked a return to form for AC/DC, whose previous three albums didnt generate any blockbusters. It was the song that set the tone for the album, a truly thunderous track that electrified the crowd as the opening number on The Razors Edge tour. The apostrophe-free album title gels with the song: Australians call the dark clouds of an approaching storm the razors edge.

Serial killers, sex and Satan-crazed filth: How the 1980s tried to destroy AC/DC...

By the mid-80s, the huge success of Back In Black was a fading memory, AC/DC were on the ropes, and there was worse to come. AC/DC were, are and always will be a 70s rock band. They wore jeans and drank beer and sang songs about chicks. They weren’t pretty and they weren’t smart, but they knew every Chuck Berry riff and they knew how to throw a party – uncomplicated guys from an uncomplicated time.

If the 70s had lasted forever, flavourless mush like Flick Of The Switch and Fly On The Wall would’ve been just fine. Among the whirls, bells and bongs of a pinball arcade or on the clunking eight-track in the dashboard of a weed-belching boogie van, what difference could there really be between Hell's Bells and Sink The Pink? No one would notice. AC/DC were part of the architecture of the 70s. Their sweaty mugs were on your walls and their iconic logo was on your chest, and that’s just the way it was. But then the 80s happened, and it screwed everything up royally.

The 80s didn’t actually start in 1980. No one knows for sure exactly when they kicked in, but the fact is, one morning we all woke up to a neon-pink world full of Boy Georges and synthesizers and Rubik’s Cubes, and there was nothing we could do about it. Suddenly, everything we knew about rock was wrong. Denim was out, new wave was in, glam became metal, metal became Metallica and nobody wanted to listen to any boozy, long-haired, jeans-wearing, mascara-free old-timey rock’n’roll bullshit. Which was unfortunate, because AC/DC really didn’t know how to play anything else. Angus Young’s 1984 interview with Guitar World magazine was further proof that AC/DC didn’t get the memo about the 70s being over. “We wanted this one as raw as possible,” he said. “We didn’t want echoes and reverb going everywhere and noise eliminators and noise extractors.”

In other words, back to basics. You know, like in 1976.

Still, even if nobody particularly liked the last record, business was still brisk. They released the ’74 Jailbreak EP, a collection of mouldy-oldies from their Aussie-only days, and it was gobbled up by the diehards. In August ’84 they headlined the massive Monsters Of Rock festival at Donington, becoming the first band to headline twice. They may have been on the wane creatively – the now long-gone Guns For Hire was the only song from Flick Of The Switch that would survive their set-list by 1985 – but their wallets didn’t notice. After relentlessly touring the US and Europe in 1984, AC/DC capped off the year with a headline appearance at the Rock In Rio festival in January ’85. Underwhelming album or not, the band were still huge, and getting bigger every day. But a sinister wind was blowing their way, one that found them embroiled in a troubling controversy over a six-year-old song hidden away on the B-side of Highway To Hell. After relentlessly touring the US and Europe in 1984, AC/DC capped off the year with a headline appearance at the Rock In Rio festival in January ’85. Underwhelming album or not, the band were still huge, and getting bigger every day. But a sinister wind was blowing their way, one that found them embroiled in a troubling controversy over a six-year-old song hidden away on the B-side of Highway To Hell. Suddenly, AC/DC were the definitive soundtrack to murder and mayhem, and they found themselves faced with nearly as many middle-aged anti-rock picketers at US shows as greasy-haired teenage punters. And this was still a month away from the PMRC’s disastrous ‘porn rock’ hearings, which would demonise our beloved, beleaguered Aussie hellraisers further.

The PMRC (Parents Musical Resource Center) was a committee formed by the high-profile wives of several US lawmakers with the expressed goal of increasing parental control over what their offspring were listening to. They vowed to expose the disgusting, sex, drugs and Satan-crazed filth that 80s kids were digging.

Prior to the hearings, they released their still stunning ‘Filthy Fifteen’ memo, a list of the worst offenders they’d come across – a wide-ranging array of songs that spanned the radio spectrum, from pop crooners like Cyndi Lauper and Madonna to black metal crazoids Venom. Smack in the middle, sandwiched between Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take it (which made the list for its ‘violent’ lyrics) and Mötley Crüe’s Bastard (ditto) was AC/DC’s Let Me Put My Love Into You, a bluesy grinder from Back In Black. It made the list for its graphic sexual lyrics. Apparently, goofy, ham-fisted metaphors like ‘Let me cut your cake with my knife’ were just too hot to handle in 1985.

Some of rock’s more vocal proponents stood up for AC/DC and other bands on the list. Dee Snider, Frank Zappa and even John Denver all appeared at the September hearings, defending the God-given right of every American to enjoy WASP’s Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) in the comfort of their own home. AC/DC did not make it to that weird party. They were busy whipping up another batch of porn-rockers for their Fly On The Wall album.

It probably wouldn’t have helped anyway. The die was cast, and every AC/DC album in the racks – as well as just about any other record with even a twinge of sex, drugs, violence, the occult, or any other classic rock’n’roll pastime – was slapped with a ‘Parental Advisory’ sticker. Welcome to the 80s, boys.

Amid this storm of hysteria, AC/DC released their tenth album, Fly On The Wall. Like Flick Of The Switch, it was self-produced. Also like Flick, it was instantly forgettable. It still sold a million copies but barely scraped the Top 50 in the US, and did a fraction of the business of megasellers like Back In Black. The singles (the unfortunately titled Sink The Pink and Shake Your Foundations) went nowhere, at least until they were revamped for Who Made Who, the soundtrack album to Stephen King’s Maximum Overdrive, and AC/DC found themselves to be thoroughly out of step with all the LA glam-slammers like Mötley Crüe, Guns N’Roses and Ratt, who were currently ruling the rock’n’roll roost.

As 1985 limped to a close, AC/DC were in a truly unenviable position – hated and feared by religious fanatics and nervous parents, dismissed as old and tired by their kids. For most bands, this would be the end of the road. Luckily, AC/DC are not most bands.
... See MoreSee Less

Serial killers, sex and Satan-crazed filth: How the 1980s tried to destroy AC/DC...
By the mid-80s, the huge success of Back In Black was a fading memory, AC/DC were on the ropes, and there was worse to come. AC/DC were, are and always will be a 70s rock band. They wore jeans and drank beer and sang songs about chicks. They weren’t pretty and they weren’t smart, but they knew every Chuck Berry riff and they knew how to throw a party – uncomplicated guys from an uncomplicated time.
If the 70s had lasted forever, flavourless mush like Flick Of The Switch and Fly On The Wall would’ve been just fine. Among the whirls, bells and bongs of a pinball arcade or on the clunking eight-track in the dashboard of a weed-belching boogie van, what difference could there really be between Hells Bells and Sink The Pink? No one would notice. AC/DC were part of the architecture of the 70s. Their sweaty mugs were on your walls and their iconic logo was on your chest, and that’s just the way it was. But then the 80s happened, and it screwed everything up royally.
The 80s didn’t actually start in 1980. No one knows for sure exactly when they kicked in, but the fact is, one morning we all woke up to a neon-pink world full of Boy Georges and synthesizers and Rubik’s Cubes, and there was nothing we could do about it. Suddenly, everything we knew about rock was wrong. Denim was out, new wave was in, glam became metal, metal became Metallica and nobody wanted to listen to any boozy, long-haired, jeans-wearing, mascara-free old-timey rock’n’roll bullshit. Which was unfortunate, because AC/DC really didn’t know how to play anything else. Angus Young’s 1984 interview with Guitar World magazine was further proof that AC/DC didn’t get the memo about the 70s being over. “We wanted this one as raw as possible,” he said. “We didn’t want echoes and reverb going everywhere and noise eliminators and noise extractors.”
In other words, back to basics. You know, like in 1976.
Still, even if nobody particularly liked the last record, business was still brisk. They released the ’74 Jailbreak EP, a collection of mouldy-oldies from their Aussie-only days, and it was gobbled up by the diehards. In August ’84 they headlined the massive Monsters Of Rock festival at Donington, becoming the first band to headline twice. They may have been on the wane creatively – the now long-gone Guns For Hire was the only song from Flick Of The Switch that would survive their set-list by 1985 – but their wallets didn’t notice. After relentlessly touring the US and Europe in 1984, AC/DC capped off the year with a headline appearance at the Rock In Rio festival in January ’85. Underwhelming album or not, the band were still huge, and getting bigger every day. But a sinister wind was blowing their way, one that found them embroiled in a troubling controversy over a six-year-old song hidden away on the B-side of Highway To Hell. After relentlessly touring the US and Europe in 1984, AC/DC capped off the year with a headline appearance at the Rock In Rio festival in January ’85. Underwhelming album or not, the band were still huge, and getting bigger every day. But a sinister wind was blowing their way, one that found them embroiled in a troubling controversy over a six-year-old song hidden away on the B-side of Highway To Hell. Suddenly, AC/DC were the definitive soundtrack to murder and mayhem, and they found themselves faced with nearly as many middle-aged anti-rock picketers at US shows as greasy-haired teenage punters. And this was still a month away from the PMRC’s disastrous ‘porn rock’ hearings, which would demonise our beloved, beleaguered Aussie hellraisers further.
The PMRC (Parents Musical Resource Center) was a committee formed by the high-profile wives of several US lawmakers with the expressed goal of increasing parental control over what their offspring were listening to. They vowed to expose the disgusting, sex, drugs and Satan-crazed filth that 80s kids were digging.
Prior to the hearings, they released their still stunning ‘Filthy Fifteen’ memo, a list of the worst offenders they’d come across – a wide-ranging array of songs that spanned the radio spectrum, from pop crooners like Cyndi Lauper and Madonna to black metal crazoids Venom. Smack in the middle, sandwiched between Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take it (which made the list for its ‘violent’ lyrics) and Mötley Crüe’s Bastard (ditto) was AC/DC’s Let Me Put My Love Into You, a bluesy grinder from Back In Black. It made the list for its graphic sexual lyrics. Apparently, goofy, ham-fisted metaphors like ‘Let me cut your cake with my knife’ were just too hot to handle in 1985.
Some of rock’s more vocal proponents stood up for AC/DC and other bands on the list. Dee Snider, Frank Zappa and even John Denver all appeared at the September hearings, defending the God-given right of every American to enjoy WASP’s Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) in the comfort of their own home. AC/DC did not make it to that weird party. They were busy whipping up another batch of porn-rockers for their Fly On The Wall album.
It probably wouldn’t have helped anyway. The die was cast, and every AC/DC album in the racks – as well as just about any other record with even a twinge of sex, drugs, violence, the occult, or any other classic rock’n’roll pastime – was slapped with a ‘Parental Advisory’ sticker. Welcome to the 80s, boys.
Amid this storm of hysteria, AC/DC released their tenth album, Fly On The Wall. Like Flick Of The Switch, it was self-produced. Also like Flick, it was instantly forgettable. It still sold a million copies but barely scraped the Top 50 in the US, and did a fraction of the business of megasellers like Back In Black. The singles (the unfortunately titled Sink The Pink and Shake Your Foundations) went nowhere, at least until they were revamped for Who Made Who, the soundtrack album to Stephen King’s Maximum Overdrive, and AC/DC found themselves to be thoroughly out of step with all the LA glam-slammers like Mötley Crüe, Guns N’Roses and Ratt, who were currently ruling the rock’n’roll roost.
As 1985 limped to a close, AC/DC were in a truly unenviable position – hated and feared by religious fanatics and nervous parents, dismissed as old and tired by their kids. For most bands, this would be the end of the road. Luckily, AC/DC are not most bands.
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