The familiar term “AC/DC” literally translates to “alternating current/direct current” in an electrical device; it can also be street slang for bi-sexuality. But those definitions, the real engineering source, the truly hard-boiled slang, those are the more obscure definitions. For time and all other purposes under the sun, AC/DC is defined as the ultimate expression of hard rock/heavy metal cool.
The resume is as impressive as it is long: seventeen studio albums, countless tours, the endurance to lose a founding member, only to come back with the defining work of the genre, Back In Black. Most other bands wouldn’t be able to boast such feats, each individual itself enough to test and break the mettle. But this is AC/DC, and their persevering might be boiled down to the simple commitment: to rock and roll. Most songs on those seventeen albums bear that. No one here is going to smite another’s artistic pretensions; odds are, in AC/DC, your band mate doesn’t have them to smite. He just wants to play his instrument to thousands of head bobbing kids.
Plug Me In, the two-disc DVD collection of performances, begins with an entire disc of Bon Scott performances, highlighted by a marathon BBC performance of “Rocker”, a dirtier than all get out version of “Problem Child” and the seemingly ubiquitous “Highway to Hell”. The performances gathered here are from far and wide, dug from the bowels of AC/DC lore, like the Australian show Bandstand performance of “It’s a Long Way To The Top” with Scott faking a pipe solo. Disc One is the simple, ascendant times with edgy, show stopping flair; its companion, Disc Two, shows a band at its absolute commercial and cultural peak. On it, Johnson plays to 400,000 in a Canadian rock fest (SARS-Stock), and shows off his pyrotechnic side in Japan. The second of the two is a little more hit and miss, more of a transformation into an MTV show than burst from a muscle car. At its most encouraging late in the second disc is Angus and the rest of the boys, still energetic while pushing fifty years old.
The quibbles with Plug Me In are few (no version of “Who Made Who”, “Money Talks” or “Big Balls” – a weak take on “For Those About To Rock”) and really don’t undermine the set’s representation of the band’s commitment to the greater good: rock. As for the DVD interface on Plug Me In, it leaves something to be desired. The designers clearly wanted to draw on the bands anthem laden, youth driven following and gave it an arcade game feeling. Some menus play quite literally like Space Invaders, and as kitschy cool as that might be, it comes off as awkward and clumsy. The small matter of immediate usability aside, Plug Me In is another bold, unanimous decision in the ongoing bout between AC/DC and the rest of the world. Other bands should know by now, they win.
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