As part of their worldwide PWR UP tour, Australian rock legends AC/DC returned to Dublin for the first time in nine years on Saturday night, lighting Croke Park ablaze with their decades-long catalogue of hard rock hits.
There is tension in Drumcondra around 4pm on Saturday – a pressure in the air like that of a string on a Gibson SG. Clonliffe Road, whose red brick homes only weeks ago felt a similar tension induced by All-Ireland finals, now feels it from ripped jeans, hip-length hair and studded belts. Aesthetic differences aside, principles are all but the same: a group of people brought together by a commonality and a community — a love for something pure and separate.
Such is the grip of a band that have not played in our capital for nine years.
The PWR UP Tour is AC/DC’s first since 2016 and the interim years have seen the band impacted by death, retirement and health issues. When frontman Brian Johnson grappled with severe hearing loss, Guns N’ Roses’ own Axl Rose made a cameo on lead vocals. Cliff Williams stepped away, explaining in a video message after the end of their 2016 run that he was “ready to get off the road and do what he does in between tours.” And just a year later, the band lost founding member Malcolm Young, who sadly passed after suffering with dementia.
These losses do loom over Croke Park on this largely grey day. Conversations between punters en route seem to touch on an undeniable possibility: this could simultaneously be the band’s live coup de grâce and, after 51 years of service, one’s last opportunity to see Angus Young’s duck walk before their very eyes. Yet the only blues that this crowd seems fixed on is the blues-influenced hard rock that will ring out around Dublin tonight.
A 30-minute set is no easy feat for a band with a discography spanning 10 years, but this time limitation results in an all killer, no filler opening set from The Pretty Reckless. The band, fronted by an ever-charismatic and smokey-eyed Taylor Momson, breezed through their hits as the sun descended. Momson, who was bitten by a bat on stage — a piece of folklore seemingly torn right from the book of Rock ‘n’ Roll — in Seville earlier this tour, swiftly commands the crowd while her band, composed of drummer Jamie Perkins, bassist Mark Damon and, most impressively, Ben Phillips on lead guitar, back her perfectly
Philips enters a state of synergy with his instrument, demonstrating a total understanding of its feedback capabilities, just how much vibrato is enough, and the exact degree a string must be bent in order to illicit a raising of the rock chalice from the crowd. With a departing thank you to AC/DC for having them, The Pretty Reckless inject Croke Park with a buzz befitting of the rock gods that will follow them.
With a crowd as packed full of rockers as some of their denim vests are with patches, AC/DC emerge at last to the deafening noise of a revving muscle car, framed by a sea of red devil horns that is the visual trademark branded onto this rock zeitgeist. Brian Johnson’s cap and Angus Young’s school boy uniform of a deep green velour, skip and leap onto stage. Clearly, being AC/DC has not worn off on them.
Johnson, who thanks to audio expert Stephen Ambrose can screech again, appears to issue an open challenge with the band’s introductory song. ‘If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)’ introduces this iteration of AC/DC as coil wound as ever; it’s a thesis statement of tonight’s motive: balls the wall Rock ‘n’ Roll.
The first handful of songs capture more than 40 years of this raucous band. 2020’s ‘Demon Fire’ doesn’t feel out of place sandwiched between 1980’s ‘Back In Black’ and 1979’s ‘Shot Down In Flames.’ The addition of jazz-turned-pop bassist Chris Chaney on bass guitar breathes groove and feeling into what are, in reality, very simple parts (Who would’ve thought a musician’s time spent touring with Alanis Morissette would aid him in a hard rock band 25 years down the line?) and he locks in with former Alice Cooper and Slash’s Snakepit drummer Matt Laug. The pair, completing the rhythm section with Malcom Young’s nephew Stevie, add body and a sternum-vibrating low end to the trebled barks of Angus’ lead.
Said barks have never been more essential than in the intro to an extended version of ‘Thunderstruck,’ with each hammer on and pull off stabbing the sky. A number of fellow fans around me have clearly had pints set aside for a live rendition of the drinking game, but despite what I’m sure was a half-in-jest, half-in-earnest suggestion, they can’t stop themselves from erupting upon the entry of Johnson’s vocal.
After this opening flurry of songs, it dawns on me that one of rock’s greatest bands have been put through the wringer only to come out the other side and play once more. Johnson’s vocal has a bit more of a rasp than he is known for; he drops octaves, sometimes mid-line and with abandon. Angus Young still moves, but as if he’s underwater. Dents of age aside, it is clear that there is only one thing that seems to matter here: fun. In what can only be a skinny-jeaned, long-haired imitation of fellow Geordie Paul Gascoigne, Johnson’s eyes are maniacally wide as he sings. He fist pumps like he’s just scored a 95th-minute winner at St. James’ Park and you can hear him exclaim “CEEMON!” off mic.
The band’s reductive sound oozes with intent and heaves with a purity of emotion, the rhythm section are all smiles and Angus still plays with a fervour and as if it’s his first time picking up a guitar, only wanting to explore the capabilities of his instrument. Every song of the set so far has ended with an elongated rall, allowing the band in their jubilance to squeeze every last second out of these songs.
The rall is, at this stage, hard rock cliché. One last, meaningful strum of a song’s dominant chord. There are certainly parallels to be drawn from that to AC/DC themselves, with the tasteful level of kitsch and camp on display tonight. There is a self-indulgence that has been earned and is rightly exhibited.
The stage is wrapped with spotlights that shine various colours, while behind the band there are stacks upon stacks of Angus Young’s preferred Marshall amplifiers and in front of them there is a rather modest ego ramp, which Johnson and Young have already completed many lengths of.
This sense of grandiose, unabashed fun carries on as the band launch into their next number, their penchant for Rock ’n’ Roll theatrics extremely evident through the intro for ‘Hell’s Bells.’ A giant bell descends from the top of the stage whilst Young plays one of the band’s most iconic licks, barely giving themselves, never mind a crowd proving themselves as die hards, a moment to breathe. Karaoke favourite ‘Highway To Hell’ and Iron Man 2 soundtrack gem ‘Shoot To Thrill’ follow as the band seem intent on upsetting anyone who came looking for deep cuts. This is a hits-only show.
After the brief interlude that is ‘Rock N Roll Train’ from 2008’s Black Ice, AC/DC throw it all the way back to the mid-70s, with Johnson standing in for the Bon Scott-fronted ‘Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap,’ ‘High Voltage’ and ‘Riff Raff.’ At this point, the band are approaching the end of this show and the PWR UP tour as a whole, yet the upward trajectory they have taken Croke Park’s thousands on doesn’t seem to have peaked just yet.
The combo attack of ‘You Shook Me All Night Long,’ ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ and ‘Let There Be Rock’ end the normal set. In what is an amazing form of punctuation, Angus Young struts down his ramp, soloing as if this will be his last. And if this is to be his final time, he will leave the stage cementing his claim as the most expressive guitarist rock music has ever seen.
The band, eager to give Young time to shine, have quietly departed the stage. Now alone, Young’s face contorts like Play Doh thrown against a wall, his blazer long removed and shirt buttons long undone. He stands right in the centre of the ramp’s end before he is hoisted by scissor lift even further above the crowd. He throws himself down, kicks his legs in tantrum, before descending and slowing his playing down in order to enter a call and response with the crowd. An enduring figure looks out at his people knowing that he has, along with his band mates and those he has lost along the way, created something truly timeless.
Over the hum of a crowd slowly emerging from an Angus Young-crafted bubble, the band reappear for one last whack at it. Following a guitar solo so hypnotising it made me forget how good the full band were, they once again bombard Dublin with a katana of rock. The “Oi Oi” of ‘TNT’ precedes the grand finale that is ‘For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)’ and a fireworks display befitting of what has just unfolded.
Only time will tell if this is to be AC/DC’s last tour. We have all seen a reformed heritage act stumble through their most popular songs in order to buy another house or yacht, but the sincerity that tinged tonight’s show makes me believe that was not the case for AC/DC. Having overcome such recent hardships, having rebuilt a band and themselves, and now having put on a spectacle that will surely have stories surrounding it for years to come, it’s clear there will be no forgetting AC/DC. This is a band that belongs in stadiums with the loudest PA system imaginable and at the very, very top. Which, if suspicion is proven correct, will be where they leave us.