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The other afternoon it was raining. It was raining, as it has been for more than ten days in this crazy and annoying March, which doesn’t give us a break nor lets us be free from its wanting to do as it pleases. I found myself alone at home, with nothing to do, and my mind was increasingly tending to get lost in the depths of the most extreme idleness, that excessive kind, the kind of doing nothing that makes you feel guilty. To avoid falling into this emotional maze, I decided to dust off some of my old CDs, some of my first listens, those uninterested, immature, almost absent ones that you initially don’t internalize as you should; pre-adolescence listens, in short. Thus, my mind, which was first eager for hateful laziness (of which, alas, I often fall victim), now is veiled by the thirst for memory, the need for nostalgia.
...
While around me my friends let themselves be fooled by odious remixes of Gabry Ponte (if I now think that he even remixed "Geordie," it makes me want to fish him out and cause him harm!), pop music of the lowest level, and saccharine dispensers of “love” in all forms, I was discovering the electric group, the human surges: AC/DC. It is certainly not, as is well known, a group famous for having spanned across many diverse genres, nor a group too devoted to experimentation, but despite that, unlike many, in their various CDs I have always found them differently the same ("Some say we have thirteen albums and that they all sound the same. That's not true. We have fourteen albums that all sound the same" Angus Young). Of course, it would be exaggerated to say that between one CD and another there are great and visible differences or sudden changes in direction, but nonetheless, their unique style sometimes delights me. Their rock is rudimentary, bare, taken from the deepest and dirtiest roots of the blues, made of scales and stories: it is a painting and tearing of metallic, electric, loaded, and rock sounds. Rock, in the full and original sense of the term, devoid of contaminations, of complementary little signatures: rock, and that's it. And to my ear, I must say, after listening that varies from Queen to Pink Floyd, from De Andrè to Janis Joplin, from Robert Johnson to Genesis, and much more, it is enjoyable every so often to immerse oneself in a warm and charged style of simplicity and immediacy, perhaps banal after repeated consecutive listens, but very powerful in the moment. AC/DC should be listened to in periods, after long pauses, only when you truly desire simplicity, of a bare but strong guitar, of a bare amplifier, of a hoarse, angry voice, a scratch of vocal cords (I prefer Bon Scott, by the way).
A bit immature, but completely full of these factors is their debut album "High Voltage", high tension (of which I own the international version, different from the one they released only in Australia). This album is the game, the disengagement, sex drugs, and much rock'n'roll, with descents into electric blues and ascents of a still newborn heavy within the arms of daddy Rock. Certainly, like all debut records, it's not perfect nor too linear, but it already presents all those characteristics that this group will go forward with, even after Bon Scott decided to join the victims of that rock that swirled in his throat and decided to stay there, forever. The title of the record perfectly reflects the progression of an album that seems to come out from the power sockets of the room where you are, certainly not better than later records (see "Highway to Hell"), but already with that right theatrical rage, a fake rage, the rage of every pure rocker, the revolution, the desire to not care, just for the whim, for the fun, for rock!... Angus Young (whom I find an excellent guitarist and frontman) is the true mind of this naked rock: it is he who lets himself be pierced and shocked by the high tension, and it is he who, as charged by electricity, lets his hands go, crazily, on the guitar also bare; bare, like a woman waiting to be touched, on a bed, naked. Angus is like a man thirsty for sex who throws himself on this provoking hussy, with the difference that he never quenches his thirst for rock, and the caresses on his Gibson become slaps of rock, from which the guitar does not die, quite the opposite.
Why, you may ask, have I chosen this certainly not outstanding record over others that followed???.... Because it is immature, as I feel immature, and it is of a rock (I repeat it again, to the point of nausea!) wonderfully empty of everything except energy, as I feel. It is a record that, at this time, represents me, as if it had sought me out itself. Because when I was thirsty for memories, I found myself ahead of records far more important in the famous (only to me) history of my past. Records that I love more than this one, groups that I love more than this one, deeper, more solemn, more important emotions. Yet the choice fell on this one, as if I had been sucked into high voltage, into the energy, into the desire for rock. Because in the end, I don’t want to have time only for depth, for solemnity, for great and mandatory value: there are moments when I feel too at the root of myself, empty, and then only the simplest and most strongly immediate rock can fill, with disengagement and play, this emptiness and set me back on my bones when my mind, as I said, votes for numbness.
And so, what do you want, I threw myself in, let myself be taken, shocked. And then I put it back there, where it was, next to the others of this group. We will probably meet again when they decide to call me, when they know it’s the right time.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
03 The Jack (05:54)
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack
She's got the Jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She play'd 'em fast
And she play'd 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, And who knows what else?
She's got the Jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, Ooh, was a bad deal, Jack
She gave me the Jack hey
She's got the Jack, She's got the Jack, She's got the Jack
Ooh, can't ya tell?
She's got the Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack
She's got the Jack, She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, She's got the Jack
You Never know! She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, and it hurts!
She's got the Jack
She's got the Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack
She's got the Jack
AAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Oooooh!
04 Live Wire (05:52)
Well if you're lookin' for trouble
I'm the man to see
If you're lookin' for satisfaction
I'm satisfaction guaranteed
I'm as cool as a body on ice
Hotter than the rollin' dice
Send you to heaven
Take you to hell
I ain't foolin'
Can't you tell?
I'm a live wire
I'm a live wire
I'm a live wire
Gonna set this town on fire
And if you need some lovin'
And if you need some man
You've got the phone and the number
And I got no future plans
Oh come on, honey you got nothin' to lose
You got the thirst and I got the booze
Give you an inch
Take you a mile
I wanna make you fry
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
Holy smoke and sweet desire
Like a hot rod baby?
Oh stick this in your fuse box
Ah, cooler than a body on ice
Hotter than the rollin' dice
Wilder than a drunken fight
You're gonna burn tonight
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
And I'm gonna set this town on fire
Live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
Well, I'm your live wire (Live wire)
I'm a live wire (Live wire)
You're gonna burn
Ah look at me
Guilty
Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn
05 T.N.T. (03:35)
Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, oi
Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, oi
See me ride out of the sunset
On your colour TV screen
Out for all that I can get
If you know what I mean
Women to the left of me
And women to the right
Ain't got no gun
Ain't got no knife
Don't you start no fight
'Cause I'm
(T.N.T.) I'm dynamite
(T.N.T.) And I'll win the fight
(T.N.T.) I'm a power load
(T.N.T.) Watch me explode
I'm dirty, mean, mighty unclean
I'm a wanted man
Public enemy number one
Understand?
So lock up your daughter
Lock up your wife
Lock up your back door
And run for your life
The man is back in town
So don't you mess me around
'Cause I'm
(T.N.T.) I'm dynamite
(T.N.T.) And I'll win the fight
(T.N.T.) I'm a power load
(T.N.T.) Watch me explode
(T.N.T.) Oi, oi, oi
(T.N.T.) Oi, oi, oi
(T.N.T.) Oi, oi, oi
(T.N.T.) Oi, oi, oi
(T.N.T.) I'm dynamite (Oi, oi, oi)
(T.N.T.) And I'll win the fight (Oi, oi, oi)
(T.N.T.) I'm a power load (Oi, oi, oi)
(T.N.T.) Watch me explode
07 Little Lover (04:57)
Saw you in the front row
Moving to the beat
Just movin' and groovin'
Killed me when I saw
The wet patch on your seat
Was it Coca Cola?
Oh baby I hope you liked the show
When the band said goodnight
I had to say hello
Little lover, I can't get you off my mind, no
Little lover, I've been trying hard to find
Someone like you
Oh baby you sure looked sweet
Cruisin'
A leg either side
Of my motorcycle seat
Just oozin'
Could have been a nightmare
Could have been a dream
But on my way home, baby
I thought I heard you scream
Little lover, I can't get you off my mind
Little Lover, oh I tried so hard to find
Someone to give me the things that I need, ah
Little lover, I can't get you off my mind, no
Little Lover, oh I tried so hard to find
Someone like you
You had my picture on your bedroom wall
Next to Gary Glitter, yeah
I was standing on the stage playing rock 'n' roll
I was a guitar picker, yeah
Never had a record
Never had a hit
Ooh baby, you didn't mind a bit
Little lover, I can't get you off my mind
Little Lover, you know I tried so hard to find
Someone like you, you, you
Baby I know you're a
Little lover, ooh
09 High Voltage (04:53)
(well) You ask me 'bout the clothes I wear
And you ask me why I grow my hair
And you ask me why I'm in a band
I dig doin' one night stands
and You wanna see me do my thing
All you gotta do is plug me into high
I said high
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage, High voltage
High voltage rock 'n' roll
rock 'n' roll
You ask me why I like to dance
And you ask me why I like to sing
And you ask me why I like to play
I got to get my kicks some way
and You ask me what I'm all about
Come and let me hear you shout high
I said high
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage, High voltage
High voltage rock 'n' roll
rock 'n' roll
I said high, I said high
Waaaah!
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage, high voltage
High voltage rock 'n' roll
(mumble, mumble...)
Spotlight, put the lights out, happy hour!
High voltage rock 'n' roll
High voltage rock 'n' roll
Wine, women and song
High voltage, high voltage
Wine women and song
High voltage rock 'n' roll
10 School Days (04:08)
C'mon ...
Up in the morning and out to school
The teacher is teaching the golden rule
American history and practical maths
You studyin' hard and you're hopin' to pass
Ooh you're working your fingers right down to the bone
And the guy behind you won't leave you alone
Ring ring goes the bell
The cook in the kitchen is ready to sell
But you're lucky if you can find a seat
You're fortunate if you got time to eat
Well back in the classroom open your books
Ooh the teacher don't know how mean she looks
Hail hail rock 'n' roll, hail hail rock 'n' roll
Hail hail rock 'n' roll, hail hail rock 'n' roll
Hail hail rock 'n' roll, hail hail rock 'n' roooooll
As soon as 3 o'clock goes around
You finally lay your burden down
Throw down your books and outta your seat
You go down the hallway into the street
And you're tryin' to forget just where you've been
You find a juke joint, you go in
You drop the quarter right into the slot
You gotta hear something that's really hot, like me
With the one you love you're makin' romance
All day long they wanted to dance
And you're feeling the music from head to toe
As round and round and round you go
Get over here
Long live rock 'n' roll, long live rock 'n' roll
Long live rock 'n' roll, long live rock 'n' roll
Long live rock 'n' roll, long live rock 'n' roll, hey
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, c'mon
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll
Rock, rock, rock 'n' roll, rock, rock, rock 'n' roll
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Other reviews
By Copernico
A truly exceptional debut for the Scottish-origin group, which delivers a hit of hard rock with the blues elements of their origins.
You could almost say they unknowingly created grunge (I apologize if anyone takes offense).
By Cinghiale
AC/DC, through High Voltage unwittingly refounded Hard Rock for the second time.
"T.N.T" is the masterpiece of the album, splendidly interpreted by Scott's hoarse, otherworldly, and devilish voice.
