High Voltage: The Life of Angus Young by Jeff Apter

Author:Jeff Apter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schwartz Publishing Pty. Ltd

Johnson’s first interview as the new man in AC/DC was with Sounds magazine, long-time champions of the band. ‘I’m scared shitless, really,’ he admitted. ‘All I know is there’s a stack of work to do.’

Angus and Malcolm had already spoken with Johnson about writing lyrics for the band. They made riffs, not rhymes; could Johnson take over from Scott?

‘I’ll give it a shot,’ Johnson replied.

Come April 1980 – just six weeks after Scott’s death – and Johnson was with the band and producer Lange in the Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas, working on an album that many sensed would be the making of AC/DC. The choice of locale was partly financial – there were some tax concessions, handy for a band that had dropped some serious money making Highway to Hell – and partly from a desire to harness the band’s energy and focus. There were few distractions. But when severe tropical storms lashed the studio early on, at times cutting off the power, everyone involved started to question the shift. One night a crab shuffled its way across the studio floor as Angus worked on a solo, much to his shock. That never happened at Alberts.

The first song cut in the Bahamas was one of several nods to Bon Scott. During sound checks on the Highway to Hell tour, Malcolm had been tinkering with a monstrous riff that he couldn’t get out of his head. Finally, in the studio with Mutt Lange, the song ‘Back in Black’ took shape. It was right up there, riff-wise, with ‘Touch Too Much’ or ‘Let There Be Rock’ and ‘Riff Raff’. The thing was so ominous it might well have been lifted straight from a horror movie soundtrack. Lange couldn’t have dreamed of a more potent starting point – it brought the entire album into focus. AC/DC was back, stronger and more resilient than ever, even though they’d been through some heavy shit. And their long-serving brother in arms hadn’t been forgotten.

Malcolm had been working on another titanium-strength riff, which formed the basis for ‘Hells Bells’. ‘What do you think?’ he asked Angus as he played some menacing chords.

‘It’s mystical,’ Angus replied – fanciful language for a man who didn’t mince his words.

During that apocalyptic storm that hit the studio early on, Johnson had been inspired to write some lyrics – ‘I’m rollin’ thunder / pourin’ rain’ – that fitted perfectly with Malcolm’s great new riff. ‘Hells Bells’ was completed in no time.

‘Have a Drink on Me’, the track on which Scott had drummed in the rehearsal studio just days before his death, was also a toast to the singer, even if the subject matter seemed a tad insensitive, in light of recent events. Fuck it, Angus figured, Bon would have found the irony funny.

Five weeks in, and the band had nine tracks done and dusted. Angus and Malcolm were working on one last song, which Malcolm called ‘Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution’, although as yet they had no lyrics.

‘What do you reckon, Jonno?’ they asked their new singer.

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