Story and photo by Pete Brooks
Gazette Newspapers Pop Music Critic
AC/DC!!
April 16, 2001!
The Long Beach Arena!
(It’s just going to be that kind of column.)
When my editor told me I was gonna get to cover this gig, I said one thing to him. I said, “As one who is about to rock, I salute you!” When a band has the cheek to name an album, “For Those About To Rock, We Salute You,” the jokes are bound to come with the turf.
Once word got out I would be covering the veteran rockers’ local appearance, everybody tried to jump on board my little reporting bandwagon. Reasonable people, responsible adults — from Gazette sports photographer extraordinaire Kevin Oules to the guy who writes this newspaper’s food column, for cryin’ out loud — came begging. I could have traveled with an entourage the size of Puff Daddy’s.
I decided to err on the side of sheer enthusiasm and thus selected our art director, Kevin Chartier, to drive me the six blocks from my home to the arena.
We’ve both been around long enough to remember when the Long Beach Arena was a heavy metal mecca — man, Iron Maiden even cut a live album here! You just don’t get much more rock & roll than that, not any more. Except for maybe… AC/DC.
Playing a generous set of mostly hits, AC/DC blew the roof off the place last Monday night. The old stuff held up remarkably well, and the new stuff rocked with equal pulp, bombast and groove.
When every song you’ve ever written is an anthem, it makes for a pretty exhilarating concert. One spectacular major-chord crescendo after another, one beautifully executed, cheesy old-school rock trick after another — I tell you, this was the absolute essence of what a rock & roll show is supposed to be. They should have closed all the clubs in town that night, and bused every displaced patron and performer over to the Arena.
The four old geezers of AC/DC make explosive, angry-sounding head-banging music with a smile on their faces and a spring in their steps. The band was so loud and the sound system so impressive, I went home feeling like I’d just spent two hours in one of those vibrating easy-chairs you find in your better department stores and retirement communities.
Lead guitarist and real star of the band Angus Young is a marvel. A well-reported 48 years old (so what? He still looks cute as hell in his little schoolboy get-up), it seems like he’s plugged into something primal; almost like the guitar is the master and he is the instrument. There’s nothing else like it. Um… I mean, him.
Though it’ll always be hard not to miss (deceased former vocalist) Bon Scott, Brian Johnson was in great voice, high spirits and pushed the throttle wide open. I hope I’m in half as good a shape when I’m his age, in (gulp) 10 years.
A random, wholly unscientific poll of audience members indicated very strongly that this show kicked major ass. Many expressed their hopes (Kevin and I included) that after last summer’s successful Blink-182 show and Monday’s sold-out, no-hassles hard rock show at the Arena, we’ll see more such high-profile events coming back to our venerable arena.
Kevin came in the morning after the show still on an adrenaline high. He wiggled his forefingers menacingly at me and proclaimed, “You rock — and I salute you!”
That’s what it’s all about. Thank you, Long Beach!
©2001 Gazette Newspapers
