Of all the places to stage a religious protest, an AC/DC concert might seem like the most antiquated place to remind people that they’re just whores and sinners moments away from an eternity in the lake of fire. According to a group of resolute Jesus freaks haunting the AC/ DC Black Ice tour, the “Highway to Hell” is real and those in attendance at Sunday night’s show at the Greensboro Coliseum are on it. The sign- and bullhorn-toting fanatics weren’t locals, however, as they’ve shown up at the aged Aussie rockers’ Fresno and Tacoma dates with the same schtick. Their over-the-top methods and ubiquitous nature begs at least a modicum of skepticism that they aren’t merely agents used to drum up publicity and mystique over a band that only those imprisoned in carbonite for the past 20 years would find edgy.
It’s unfortunate that such oppositional fervor couldn’t have been directed at Sunday night’s opener the Answer, because they seem hell-bent on keeping cheesy cock-rock alive once AC/ DC hangs it up. The Irish offering came out with their huge, recycled arena sound that introduced little into the rock equation, but are destined for fleeting radio fame nonetheless. Front man Cormac Neeson looks as if he stepped out of an early Bad Company promo photo and used his ear-splitting operatic tenor to wail about “Demon Eyes” and “Evil Man,” while guitarist Paul David Mahon shredded on some wanky, fret-tapping solos. They did bring a ton of energy and enthusiasm, which clearly left the house ripe for the evening’s headliner.
With thousands of flashing devil horns — devil horns! — scattered throughout the audience, the house lights dropped and a racy video montage of scantilyclad cartoon she-devils and phallic references rumbled throughout the building. The World’s Oldest Schoolboy himself, Angus Young, and lead singer Brian Johnson made their triumphant, swaggering entrance to their latest radio smash “Rock N’ Roll Train,” instantly heading for the catwalk that was clearly off-limits to the Answer’s Neeson. Johnson hulked around stage with his mechanical struts, while Young skidded up and down the catwalk, opting for his signature duck-walk instantly.
They rebutted the cries of the protesters outside with the Bon Scott-era number “Hell Ain’t a Bad Place to Be” as a precursor to the first big one of the evening, “Back In Black.” They shied away from stringing together too many classics consecutively, instead slyly weaving in new material to keep the rat tails and leather jackets hankering for the Golden Era tunes on their toes. They scattered six tracks from the past decade into the first two-thirds of the show, of course saving many of the greats for the finale. Most of the new album consists of tedious, worn-out versions of their greatest hits, including the title track, which might have gotten the most lukewarm reception of any point in the show.
The night made a complete 180 immediately afterwards, as “The Jack,” a song about a clap-laden dame, ironically featured several female fans on the stage’s projection screens. The joke flew over the head of a few, who took the opportunity to audition for their local gentlemen’s club using the stair railing as a pole and prompting one nearby ’80s refugee to abandon his raging air guitar long enough to shout out “Show us them bewbies!” Not to be outdone, Angus gave the crowd his own twisted striptease, getting down to his brand-name AC/ DC knickers as a gigantic bell was lowered from the rafters. Guess what came next? Johnson bolted down the catwalk and swung from the ringer Tarzan-style as the bell (not real) “chimed” out the intro to “Hell’s Bells,” further poking fun at the marchers outside. Continuing with the stripper theme, Johnson chose the form of his destroyer and it arrived as a gigantic, massively busty blow-up doll that creepily tapped its feet to the pole-dancing ode “Whole Lotta Rosie.”
So hurried to engage in rigorous ontological debate with those outside, AC/DC eschewed the encore drama and crammed the final two songs, “Highway to Hell” and “For Those About to Rock,” onto the end of the regular set without pretense. The show was as rocking as it was inconsistent, with a little too much undesirable new material keeping the show’s momentum from truly peaking. Yet, for a name band like AC/DC to saunter off without playing the encore game, well that takes balls.
Angus Young (left) and Brian Johnson (right) bring electricity to AC/DC’s Sunday night performance. (photos by Ryan Snyder)
