AC/DC: Black Ice

The original Blizzard from Oz returns with another of Satan’s musical telegrams
The time: 1981. The place: Junction City, Ore. The scene: the high school’s annual talent show, utterly dominated by the three-chord wonders JC/DC and their completely inept cover of AC/DC’s “T.N.T.” Having moved to this tiny agricultural burg the year prior with my family from the decidedly more urban environs of Long Beach, Calif., I couldn’t understand where all the minorities went (answer: there weren’t any) nor did I get all the Camaro-driving heshers and their parking-lot fixation with AC/DC’s brain-numbing, redneck rock. I secretly worshipped Black Flag and pined for the day when I could return to the LBC, reminding myself that a) eventually I could blow this hillbilly popstand and b) it was possible to know nothing whatsoever about music and still make a killer racket guaranteed to piss off adults and thrill your peers.
JC/DC swept the contest in a landslide and the group’s juvenile delinquent brothers became local legends on the basis of their perfectly imperfect performance; I bought a cheap guitar and started a similarly crap band (albeit, one whose idea of a good time didn’t involve playing “Highway to Hell,” much to my later-life regret). Three decades later, I realized I was wrong about two things: Junction City (the place was always populated by honorable, hard-working people; I was just too arrogant to see it) and AC/DC, a band which time has shown to be one of the finest post-modern blues acts to ever plug into a wall of Marshalls.
So that’s why, listening to the band’s 15th studio long-player since its formation back in the early ‘70s (and ninth since losing original frontman Bon Scott to the bottom of the bottle), I can hear the jokes from the unenlightened already: “Back in Black Ice?” “Highway to Hell Freezes Over?” “Dirty Deeds Done the Same Damn Way as Before (but several decades older)?”