Photography by Rachelle Bassi (click on the pictures for the full size)
“It’s been a while, so let’s rock” from lead singer Brian Johnson was all it took to rouse deafening cheers from the sold out Adelaide crowd of 43,000.
The rock legends shook us all night long, or at least until the 11pm curfew. A diverse crowd boasting families of four generations or more waited patiently with baited breath under the menacing glow of the four storey speakers framing the stage.
However the madness had begun long before nightfall. Which was around 8:30pm according to my new iPhone app. The city inhaled Acca-Dacca fans from all over, littering them across the city like little black swarms of rock concerts long forgotten.
After hours of lining up at either of the two entrances we were hit by an array of sweet and savoury treats to carry us through until show time, not to mention two adequately stocked bars and an excessive number of merch tents.
The moon began to rise just after the last of the concert goers flooded through the gates like a tidal wave, pushing those of us in general admission even further in to the sweaty armpits of leather clad bikies sporting ACDC tour shirt from another era. We were ready. ACDC shirt? Check. Cup tray to hold the much needed four beers? Check. Glowing devil horns? Check. Sweet smell of hash from the group in front? Check.
And then the curtain dropped. Oh yeah!
I am sure the sheer noise of the crowd alone could warrant noise restrictions. The band appeared in a cloud of red smoke. For the next two hours we were in rock heaven. Angus Young on guitar had more energy and stage presence than a guitarist half his age with rockets strapped to his shoes, stopping only millimetres short of a stage dive.
And what about the noise? Loud and clear. Although some concert-goers opted to be on the safe side and wear earplugs. Me, I just stood as close to the speakers as possible ready to be shaken to my core at my first and probably last ACDC concert ever. I’d deal with the consequences at uni tomorrow.
We were reminded of how a rock concert should be with rock ballads that spanned the decades bringing the crowd to its feet and keeping it there without so much as an intake of breath between songs. And then we were hit with Thunderstruck, paving the way for a marathon air guitar shred fest followed soon after by “The Jack”. Angus happily shed his sweat-drenched schoolboy uniform to reveal a skin tight pair of jockies with ACDC branded across the bum.
The crowd “oi’d” along to “TNT”. Was wowed by a gigantic inflatable bikie chick with cans to make Pam Anderson jealous in “Whole Lotta Rosie”. Girls of all ages responded by flashing their own. They went out with a bang, literally, finishing up with “For Those About to Rock” which featured a 21 gun salute topped off with fireworks.
Why can’t we do this every week?
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