Tales From The Video Stash: AC/DC - Let There Be Rock

[with special emphasis on "Live Wire"]

AC/DC: Let There Be Rock

[with special emphasis on "Live Wire"]

Since I already started this video series on a nostalgic vibe with my reminiscences about seeing ABBA: The Movie in a Soviet movie theater in the early 1980s, I might as well continue the trend for a little while. If ABBA somehow managed to occupy the position of Guardian Angels of Light for my early years, then AC/DC — along with KISS — were a most likely candidate for the unseen Demons of Terror, haunting me with their flashy logos from just about every third concrete fence or public toilet wall I could have the misfortune of running into in early 1980s’ Moscow. Not that I even had a chance of actually hearing them: unlike ABBA, a band like AC/DC had no chance whatsoever of appearing on Soviet TV (they were officially blacklisted for «Satanic imagery» and, based on their logo, even for «neo-Nazism») — and, much more importantly, no chance to appear in my father’s record collection, for a somewhat different reason.

The reason being, of course, that in the then-current (and still somewhat persisting) Russian class society rock bands like AC/DC and KISS occupied the niche of «working class music» — «dumb» rock’n’roll to be listened to by technical school kids with no brains and/or no aspirations to make it to proper college. The same person who spray-painted AC/DC on your nearest school fence was more than likely, on occasion, to punch you in the face simply for the fun of it — or, at least, such was the overall feeling hanging out there in the air (a feeling that, ironically, would later come alive in a whole other dimension in the early Internet age, when the category of «AC/DC fans» materialized as a very special class of people to leave comments on the early classic reviews by Mark Prindle. Veterans like me still remember the magnificent, terrifying, and legendary Ballbreaker fiasco).

It took me years, if not decades, to get over ridiculous childhood traumas to actually subject myself to the sonic temptations of this «lowbrow entertainment», but it did not take that long to realize the big fundamental difference between the music of AC/DC and KISS which, most likely, did not exist for the average fan of both — namely, that KISS, in general, were really as simple-stupid as they announced themselves to be (disclaimer: as artistic personae, not necessarily as human beings), whereas the music of AC/DC was a classic double-bottom suitcase. Like Grand Theft Auto, a video game series which can exist in the modality of primitive shocking dumb teenage entertainment or of the sharpest, smartest, most cutting-edge satire ever invented in the world of videogaming, depending on one’s level of perception, AC/DC are a band that can be looked on from different angles and under different levels of magnification. I wish somebody had left this fact as a footnote on one of those toilet walls back in 1982.

I’ll try to illustrate this point based on my little stock of AC/DC DVDs which, as of now, includes Family Jewels (a retrospective collection of mostly lip-synced musical videos), Plug Me In (a parallel retrospective collection of mostly live appearances), and Let There Be Rock — a classic single-event movie of AC/DC taking it to the stage on December 9, 1979 at the Pavillon de Paris, at the absolute height of their creative and performing powers but, tragically, just a little over two months away from the demise of one of the chief architects of those powers (Bon Scott). Also, ironically, just half a year away from the closure of the famous «Abattoirs», possibly France’s greatest symbol of classic 1970s’ arena-rock (the full performance chronology of that place literally staggers the mind).

Both Plug Me In and Family Jewels have their fair share of great moments, but I’ll need a proper show opener to illustrate the subtle charms of the band, and for that purpose, the performance of ‘Live Wire’ from the Pavillon de Paris show will work better than anything else — in my mind, one of the greatest examples of the power of classic arena rock to have ever been captured on tape in such good quality and with such symbolic expression.

By December 1979, AC/DC were not yet quite on top of the world, but they were seriously getting there. Earlier in July, they had released Highway To Hell, with both the LP and the title track as the lead single achieving such tremendous commercial success as they’d never yet experienced, breaking them big in the US charts for the first time and, consequently, making them a household name all around the globe. Let There Be Rock captured them at a brief crucial moment — freshly crowned as the new kings of crunchy hard rock, making the transition from small, tightly-packed clubs to arena-rock level, and with Bon Scott still alive: this last detail is very important, because for all my admiration for Brian Johnson, I am not a big fan of either his image or his near-complete inability to sing in tune while moving on stage (in his prime years, he was a great studio singer, but really not so hot live even when his voice was still in full force).

What this all really meant at the time was adding an extra touch of showmanship, ambition, and «regality» to the band’s concert performances — and this is where that important distinction between AC/DC and KISS really comes into play. Both bands put on a show when they play, but KISS have always been straightforward entertainers: like a circus act, they come out on stage, stun the viewers with their visuals, delight them with their choreography, cheer them up with their stunts, and leave. AC/DC, on the other hand, are dramatic artists — in both their music and their stage presentation of it, they care about linking all the elements in a thrilling, dynamic exposition that keeps you on the edge of your seat, always wondering about what comes next. Whether this ability comes to the band naturally, without them giving it much thought, or whether they do spend a lot of time and effort meticulously planning all the little details, I have no idea (though I am inclined to suspect the latter rather than the former); all I know is that the often encountered definition of AC/DC as a «mindless hard rock riff machine» does not even begin to explain the reason behind their general popularity.

As a rule, the best example of AC/DC’s dramatic artistry on stage is precisely the number that opens their show — occasionally, they would launch right into the thick of it with ‘Let There Be Rock’, but most of their shows in the late 1970s opened with ‘Live Wire’, a number that nobody would probably place in their Top 10 AC/DC studio recordings, but one that, out of all their show openers, was arguably the most telling and expressive. It’s on my list of the most-rewatched-ever AC/DC videos, along with just a couple others (‘Bad Boy Boogie’ from Colchester in 1978, or the original music video for ‘Hells Bells’), and it’s pretty much perfect from all points of view — sound, staging, choreography, energy, cinematography, you name it.

True to its title, ‘Live Wire’ opens with a droning bass note that resembles the electric hum coming from a stretched live wire under high tension — only in this live setting, it opens up onto a dimly-lit, seemingly empty stage, all swathed in hellish red-and-black; after a few moments, the bright lights start slowly converging on the still barely visible elevated figure of Angus Young, playing the opening chords... actually, wait, no, that’s Malcolm playing the opening chords, but the humble elder brother remains in the shadows, allowing the spotlight to first settle on his far more dynamic younger sibling, even if, at this point, he is barely touching any actual strings. It’s almost like a cosmo­gonic myth played out before your very eyes — darkness was over the surface of the stage, and the Spirit of Electric Sound was humming over the speakers, and God-Satan said, Let there be Angus, and there was Angus, and God-Satan saw that Angus was awesome, and he separated Angus from Malcolm... Can you actually get that kind of vibe from a KISS performance?

The creation process then continues as the freshly-hatched Angus times his first «timid» steps out of the pod, carefully descending down to the stage, with the transformation of the quiet introductory open chords into a more powerful mini-riff, still knocking on the door without the ability to properly break out. All this time, the camera remains strictly focused on Angus alone, even if he is still not playing anything, just gradually coming into his own. Finally, with a Bon Scott yell out of nowhere, the full band breaks in with Angus doubling down on Malcolm’s riff — in a single mighty spasm that knocks off his symbolic devil horned hat... though I probably wouldn’t read this as a subtle allegory on AC/DC throwing off the chains of Satan, because their remaining tightly bound by those chains is kind of the central focus of the entire AC/DC narrative. It’s merely a prelude to the trademark Angus striptease that will come later in the show.

If you just compare this epic opening to the existing footage of their earlier performances of the same song (there is one visually fine rendition from July 1976, for instance), none of these details have been worked out yet — it’s just the band rocking out in a natural way, with the tempo a little slower (closer to the studio original) and the riffage a little less loud and distorted, more suitable to a club-style than arena-style performance. Some people (including myself on certain days) would perhaps prefer the earlier footage, arguing that it concentrates more on the power of the music itself than on putting up a pretentious stadium show — everything younger, rawer, grittier, and more intimate. But while there certainly are plenty bands out there whose live power has suffered with the transition from small to big scene (Dire Straits, I’m looking at you!), I do not think that AC/DC can really be accused of that. There were inevitable changes to the groove with that transition, but there is not a single moment in the 1979 performance of ‘Live Wire’, or, for that matter, any other song, where you could convincingly argue that the band is sacrificing the music for the sake of the show. At every single moment, whatever goes on on stage is enhancing the power of the music, never ever going against it.

Let’s return to the actual performance, though. As the band finally kicks in after a minute of tense build-up, the camera begins hopping between or frantically following Angus and Bon — the two moving cogs, anchored to the rock-tight foundation of Cliff Williams on bass and Malcolm Young on guitar, both of them steadily guarding Phil Rudd’s drum kit like winged lions on both sides of an Assyrian palace, but diligently stepping out to the mikes every time there is a necessity to deliver a backing vocal. This is largely a technical step, because Angus pretty much needs the entire stage to himself, and weaving his way around his big brother with that guitar chord could be suicidal; but it can be also seen as an intentional choreographic decision, with the «AC/DC stage configuration» becoming as classic an image as «The Who stage cofiguration» before them.

Bon Scott is at the loose height of his provocative powers here, flashing more chest hair than in his earlier appearances and trading in the grinning seductive drawl for a more straightforward, scream-ish approach, but (a) this is more or less an automatic readjustment for the arena-rock setting and (b) he still sings mostly on key, unlike his soon-to-be replacement, so I have no qualms about his reaching for higher registers. The funny thing, though, is that at this point he does not even stand a minor chance of feeling like the band’s frontman: with Angus constantly flashing from one side of the stage to the other — and with his knack for headbanging right next to Bon each time the latter opens his mouth — there is no question about who’s really running this show. (Again, a tradition inherited from classic Who shows where most of the time your eyes rest fixated on the silent guitarist rather than the chatty vocalist).

Besides, Angus’ stage movements are not as randomly chaotic as it might seem upon first sight — there is definitely a method to his madness, as he shifts from headbanging on the spot to rhythmically trotting to duck-walking at specific points in the song, for instance, during verse-chorus-verse transitions. His moment of crowning glory here is, of course, the instrumental break, one of the finest in AC/DC history because it follows a rarely used, but maximally efficient pattern: (a) mutate the groove by introducing a cool new riff, (b) naturally grow a crazy shredding solo out of that riff, (c) revert back to the riff and teasingly play around it for a while to assert the power of rock’n’roll minimalism, (d) kick back into the main groove with a vengeance. It’s kind of the musical equivalent of a bona fide adventure novel, isn’t it?

One minor detail about guitar-vocal interaction I’ve always loved about ‘Live Wire’ is how Bon and Angus leave the first verse-chorus sequence unresolved: "I’m a live wire (LIVE WIRE!), yeah I’m a live wire (LIVE WIRE!), LIVE WIRE (LIVE WIRE!), yeah..." — with the yeah sequencing right back into the main riff, as if the chorus somehow under-delivered on the promise. But then the second time around, things wrap up perfectly with Bon’s rhyming "...and I’m gonna set your soul on fire!" and then, instead of going back to the main riff, Angus kicks in with the four-beat E minor sequence that becomes the life-thread of the song for the next several minutes, opening up a whole new melodic dimension. This is the kind of perfectly thought-out AC/DC complexity that people rarely talk about — the hidden intelligence of the mindless headbanging which sets them so far apart and beyond countless clueless imitators.

The next stage is getting to the solo proper, announced by Bon’s "stick this in your fuse box!" — again, one of the best examples of Angus’ ecstasy-generating power here, as he rises higher and higher with each new phrase (speedy, ravenous, headbanging, and perfectly melodic at that!), only to revert to the original E minor riff at the climactic moment. Then comes the best moment of Angus savoring that riff — in the studio version and in earlier live performances, he would do it quietly, exploiting the volume dynamics for maximum effect, but here, with the transition to arena-rock, he trades in subtlety for crunch, particularly mulling over the dry, crackling distortion of the pen­ultimate bended note, making it as nasty as possible for a whole lotta bars before finally bringing it all crashing down in one last ideally controlled sustain of feedback. (Kudos to Phil Rudd for keeping up the perfect beat all that time).

Amusingly (but predictably), while comparing additional versions of the song on YouTube, I also fell across several different versions of Mötley Crüe’s tune by the same name (which actually was their very first single, released in 1981). It is virtually impossible that those guys could be unfamiliar with AC/DC’s song, so it must have been a conscious move to establish a legacy link — but it is quite instructive, especially for all those skeptical of the artistic merits of headbanging hard-rock outfits, to take a peek at this comparatively sorry attempt to channel the same kind of thunderous power. Generic speed-metal riff, poor vocal hook, totally predictable dynamics, no proper choreography to the show to speak of — sure you can headbang to this, but does this song even begin to take you through all sorts of peaks and valleys? AC/DC, right before your eyes, construct an epic cosmic myth of sorts, legitimately adopting and transforming the «voodoo child» tradition of their blues heroes. Mötley Crüe simply rock the nearest pub.

Returning to the right ‘Live Wire’ and to Let There Be Rock in general, I must admit that sitting through an entire video of a complete AC/DC concert can certainly get tiring, which might be one of the reasons why I so specifically decided to concentrate on the opening number. It is certainly astonishing how the little guy, Angus Young, can keep up his stamina and 100% dedication for the duration of an entire show — with all that running, headbanging, and shredding — but his actual bag of tricks does run out sooner or later, and the second half of the show becomes less interesting on an intellectual level, easier to enjoy if you put your brain on autopilot by that time. (One might wonder if keeping the shows to a Ramones-style 30-minute length would have been a better proposition, but then AC/DC have never subscribed to Ramones-style punk minimalism; their songs are long by definition, and they do need time to stretch out).

Still, for a quick fill of super-energy, there’s simply no better proposition than an AC/DC classic from what was, possibly, their single best year of live performing. And while songs like ‘Let There Be Rock’ or ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ or, of course, ‘Highway To Hell’ itself, are far better known classics than ‘Live Wire’, I don’t think I can name a better symbolic showcase for the «breaking out» moment of the band than this one. As much as I detest pure showmanship not backed up by musicality, this is one of those moments when music and action are in perfect sync, with the latter justifying and enhancing the music rather than overshadowing or, God forbid, downright replacing it. Too bad this peak only lasted until early 1980, but then again, isn’t this what a «peak» is all about in the first place? You wanted the best — you got the best! (Actually, that was the name of a KISS live compilation, not an AC/DC one, so, I guess, add «modesty» as another key factor working in favor of the Australians rather than the New Yorkers).

Moral of the story: the best kind of headbanging is always the kind that requests a full head of brains. First, they make funny sloshing sounds when they bang, and second, only controlled and creative chaos, not thoughtless and repetitive, lets both the musician and the listener ascend to actual Godhood. Everything else is just to get laid, which is also a noble purpose of sorts, but a little less critically relevant, so to speak.