If somebody has really pissed you off, if you feel like you need to put someone's head through a window, or you just want to let it all go and head-bang for half an hour, then this is the album for you. You may find it strange, if you have been following my blog, to find Highway To Hell in and amongst the like of Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Chris Rea and Eric Clapton. I suppose everyone is entitled to their guilty pleasure?! Actually, that is a major injustice - I take that back. AC/DC aren't a guilty pleasure. By saying that you have to half admit that the band you like are crap. There is nothing 'crap' about these boys. For forty years they have enlightened the world with their kick-arse, no-frills, put-your-fists-up-or-fuck-off Rock'n'Roll. And you know what? I love every damn minute of it!
Highway To Hell, the first AC/DC record I managed to get my hands on, came round by accident really. Me and a group of University friends were in The Leadmill (Sheffield) at some unGodly hour one Saturday evening pissed as parrots when the DJ decided to treat us to the loudest version of Highway To Hell I am ever likely to hear. The roof blew off, and everybody in the place - whether Mod, Goth, Emo, Punk, Chav (thankfully there weren't many of these) - united as one for just one song, and threw their sweaty locks of hair about the place. That was when I knew I just had to own it - that memory alone needed to be documented with a record on the shelf. I hunted it down, did my best in my pin-stripe pants and brogues to hide it from the Mod fraternity in the queue, and scurried back to my halls almost ashamed to have set foot in the world of the rockers.
The thumping title track opens the album, and when the drums come in to accompany the legendary riff it really is as though the walls are going to tumble down. Girls Got Rhythm begins Bon Scott's explicit lyrical obsession with women, and puts a seedy stamp on a record that oozes sex and all that is sordid - even the front cover depicts the mischief that awaits you when you press play. Walk All Over You is a definite album highlight, moving like a train through the low gears with an intimidating, all-masculine sound. Touch Too Much is, once again controversial, but quality rip-roaring Rock'n'Roll. Beating Around The Bush is manic, Shot Down In Flames a resounding rocker in which Angus Young's frantic but impeccable guitar playing comes to the fore, and Get It Hot is a booming Saturday night party anthem. If You Want Blood (You Got It) is tough and laddish, and very much reminiscent of West Street in Southport post midnight. Love Hungry Man is a superb, primal male confession, before the album closes with the super-controversial Night Prowler. This record caused a storm after serial killer Richard Ramirez quoted it as an inspiration, and left items of AC/DC apparel at many of his murder scenes in L.A. The band responded by saying that Ramirez's claim was unfounded - song meant no such thing as killing; it was actually written about a boy creeping into his girlfriend's room at night!
Highway To Hell was the band's final album with singer Bon Scott before he died in an alcohol fuelled mess in 1980. It is a remarkable story that AC/DC managed to come back bigger and badder than ever with Brian Johnson on vocals since usually the loss of the voice means the death of the band. Look at Queen. Nevertheless, what a raucous way to go - leaving the brilliant Highway To Hell as your epitaph. I got to see AC/DC last year at the new Wembley Stadium - one of the final jigsaw pieces to complete in my gig-going career - and it was everything I expected it to be: FUCKING IMMENSE! What energy, what excitement, what a stage show, what an atmosphere, what a band. Long live these Aussie rockers, and regardless what music you may be into, don't be shy - get yourself a copy of Highway To Hell!
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