Dear Angus,
I know now what Rock really is. Rock is the full sensory experience of AC/DC. Your amplified affection of Blues, graphic show of style, and ringing canon blasts put us in another place, far from our routine. I wonder how AC/DC came to be. What is its origin? What do the symbols mean? What lies at its core? These questions apparently point to you. I look for clues underneath sensations.
Anxious individuals stand above all of Phillips Arena’s seats waiting for the show. At the height of our anxiety, a cartoon as tall as the space starts. A loud train carries calm passengers at unreal speeds. The view pans to the train engine. In customary schoolboy attire with shovel in hand, you frantically fuel the nearly out of control train, headed anywhere fast, fighting diversions. The train crashes but everyone survives. This cartoon is, of course, a microcosm of AC/DC, foreshadowing the live spectacle. You are the leader, the fearless nerd.
Are you really as original as you appear? Who do you take your non-musical cues from, if anyone? My fantasy answers “Charlie Chaplin.” Your clown-like symbolic language and expressions guide the fearlessness of it all. The show uses all your tools save your voice. Costume, facial expressions, and other purposeful contradictions somehow unite. The schoolboy uniform serves these contradictions even at your age – a youthful 55, still a mischievous Kid.
You seamlessly weave these graphics with dramatic riffs. Like those bluesmen before, you enliven a simple structure with such complex feeling. You sound an immediate kind of communication – heavy on feeling, light on technical show. The fashion is confident. The energy is exuded in motion, melody, and ungodly amounts of sweat, all as if you are taking in so much and producing even more. You are an efficient human being, bringing much to our collective experience, a father of the authentic language of Rock.
We leave the arena going back to our cars, apartments, and homes. We take back to this profane, mundane world a cultural experience, a history lesson, and some of your fearlessness. Let it last.
Sincerely,
Forrest Fulton
Original Source: https://bobida.wordpress.com/2009/11/03/angus-young-open-letter/
