Right at a time when we all need a little positivity, the kings of rock deliver. ACDC has just released their newest album – Power Up. It packs punch. It pumps that positive, body twitching, head jerking ACDC electric juice through your entire body. Click on the quick vid below for a little sneak preview (I indulged in the hardcore fan package of the CD version).
Every tune shoots energetic vibes through the air for miles and miles. I don’t know how these guys are still doing it, but they are. Power Up is the seventeenth album of ACDC, and the tunes do not disappoint. Malcolm and Agnus, the brothers that initiated the spark that would become ACDC, co-wrote the songs. Malcolm sadly passed in 2017 of dementia. What a tribute to him.
I still get thrills shooting through my veins when I think back to the time I dragged my better half on a half day journey just to go and see these guys. It was pouring, I mean POURING, rain, but it didn’t slow them down. Angus trotted, danced, whipped his head around and convulsed in guitar god bliss across that slippery, rain drenched stage as it if were a slight sprinkle.
Even Rolling Stone acknowledges that they’ve never slowed down, and this new album is one of their best. Check out the full article.
So here’s to all those about to rock, all those who love dirty deeds done dirt cheap, and every raving fan who remains thunderstruck decades later!
Do you have an ACDC memory? Share in the comments.
Do you have a favourite ACDC track? Share in the comments.
Let’s keep the ACDC love going!
Get your copy of the Power Up limited edition deluxe lightbox by clicking the image below.
It’s almost Halloween!! Grab a handful of cheap, sugary candy from that pumpkin bucket and take a few minutes (well, 13 minutes and 42 seconds) to watch the full video (or shall I say mini-movie?). You can’t tell me you don’t want a creepy blast from the past…and a bit of sugar to put you in that Halloween spirit.
Now that you’re hopped up on sweet chocolate and caramel goo, why was (and still is…) Thriller so good?
Was it because of Michael’s sheer joy over seeing himself transform into a werewolf in front of the eyes of his sweet, pure girlfriend? I mean, c’mon, he’s clearly enjoying this! Or the incredible transformation, fur, nails, teeth and all? I mean, this was 1982.
Or was it the perfectly choreographed dance of the dead? These zombies had moves! And, of course, we were all in love with the way that Michael could slide across the dance floor…or the cemetery.
Or was it the fact that this video was 13 minutes and 42 seconds long? In a time when the video format was new, videos were short and full of glam, this one pushed the limits WAY beyond the boundaries. It was LONG. It was SCARY. It was completely different than any other video out there when it was released. Yet, it was a HIT! We all love it.
How about we sum it all up as a chilling, thrilling, mini-movie wrapped up in a video box? We all loved this tiny film. We all watched it over and over. And we also played that LP until it was scratched and jumpy.
My first exposure to WolfMother was during a stint in San Diego. I had time to lounge on the roof top and gorge myself in the wails of the rock gods. Somehow, I came across WolfMother. The track Violence of the Sun had me totally hooked. The lead singer – Andrew – had the rock god voice that I longed for, that I needed to be a happy, full human being. The rough rock vibe pulled me in to the acid rock, classic rock, metal concoction that I couldn’t get enough of.
When one the best hard rock albums of all time came out, I was but a young, impressionable girl.I was still well behaved back then, for the most part. I had poisoned my mind with light pop such as Celine Dion and Tiffany. I had started to reach my tentacles tentatively into the exciting vibrations of the long haired rockers that were popping up all around me.But until I experienced Appetite, well, I had no idea what real hard rock was.I recall walking into the music store and finding the plastic encased tape that would change my music listening experience forever. I also recall my mother questioning the warning labels of explicit language and other such things. I assured her it was fine. Somehow she went along with it.
There’s something about a good front man that makes my insides tingle. I want a reptile like, tight, scantily clad body slithering up to a microphone, piercing my soul with his haunting eyes, and cloaking me with his deep, dark words. I want to feel like I’m the only one in the audience. Like he’s only singing to me.
The Lizard King has always been one of my favorite front men, despite the fact that I’ve only seen him on screen. His vocals are hypnotizing enough to pull me into the TV, landing me in a prime position, squished against the front of the stage.
He absolutely epitomized the definition of good front man. A poet at heart, he went through the ultimate transformation when he stepped on stage. Like a second skin, he shed his shyness, his trepidation, his old self, to become what the masses needed. Men and women looked to him to lead them to the other side in their acid induced states as he crooned to them of dead toads on the road and the end.
His words were haunting. His presence hypnotizing. His essence sereal. If I could, I would step back on time into one of those jam packed venues and infuse myself into the giant being of a crowd swaying back and forth in time to the delivery of the Liazrd King on stage in all his glory.
He had it all. A tight body. Long curls. Luscious lips. A dark message. A mysterious vibe. He entranced entire audiences, taking them away to another world with his presence alone.
If I am to mention how much I love a good front man, I must mention the Lizard King, eventhough I’ve only met him in my rock ‘n roll dreams.
This is a post about one of the most electric live music experiences of my life.
I literally was hanging onto the side of balcony by a combination of the tips of my booted toes and a finger (well maybe two or three fingers), watching one of the most amazing rock gods of all time, in a beer and sweat soaked tent. Somehow I manage to head bang to my fullest.
Let’s back up here. It was Stampede. For those of you who don’t what the heck Stampede is, it’s the ‘Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth.’ Ten days packed full of parties and fun, it’s a concoction of a massive rodeo, an outdoor amusement park, casinos, livestock shows, art galleries, beer gardens, and live concerts. To top it off, the people of Calgary, the fine city that hosts this ridiculous brouhaha, attend a plethora of pancake breakfasts suited up on western gear. Yeeee-haw!!!
I grew up in Calgary, thus, Stampede seethes through my blood. The lover of music that I am, one of the highlights is the line up of live shows that migrate our way during this festive time. When Steven Tyler announced he would be playing at the Cowboys Tent – an outdoor, massive tent erected for the ten days of partying – I snatched my tickets up immediately. Loud. Sweaty. Standing room only. My kind of show.