vinylfanatics.com

**AC/DC - Let There Be Rock**
★★★★☆

By 1977, AC/DC were already Australia's most ferocious export since the funnel-web spider, but they were still largely unknown beyond the Southern Hemisphere and the grimy pub circuit that had forged their molten sound. Fresh off the back of *High Voltage* and *T.N.T.*, the Young brothers – Angus with his schoolboy uniform and manic stage antics, Malcolm with his granite rhythm guitar – were ready to deliver their most uncompromising statement yet. What they needed was an album that would translate the sweaty, beer-soaked intensity of their live shows into vinyl grooves. What they got was *Let There Be Rock*, a 38-minute masterclass in controlled chaos that would cement their reputation as the most dangerous rock'n'roll band on the planet.

Recorded at Albert Studios in Sydney with producer George Young (elder brother to Angus and Malcolm) and engineer Mark Opitz, the album strips away any pretense of subtlety. This isn't progressive rock or art rock – it's primal, elemental hard rock distilled to its purest essence. The production is deliberately raw, capturing the band's natural aggression without the polish that would later characterize their arena-rock phase. Every guitar chord cuts like a rusty blade, while Phil Rudd's drums hit with the precision of a metronome powered by dynamite.

The title track opens proceedings with a biblical proclamation that rock'n'roll is indeed a divine force, Bon Scott's whisky-soaked vocals delivering the commandments over a riff that Moses himself would have carved into stone tablets. It's followed by "Problem Child," where Scott inhabits the persona of a leather-jacketed delinquent with such conviction you half expect him to steal your motorcycle before the song ends. These aren't just songs – they're manifestos, declarations of intent from a band who understood that rock'n'roll was never meant to be safe or sanitized.

The album's crowning achievement is undoubtedly "Whole Lotta Rosie," a seven-minute epic that finds Scott eulogizing a larger-than-life woman with dimensions that would make a mathematician weep. Built around one of Malcolm Young's most hypnotic riffs and featuring Angus's most unhinged guitar solo, it's AC/DC at their most gloriously excessive. The song builds and builds until it feels like the studio itself might collapse under the sheer weight of its own swagger. Meanwhile, "Dog Eat Dog" showcases the band's ability to craft hooks that burrow into your brain and refuse to leave, while "Bad Boy Boogie" is exactly what its title promises – a sleazy, irresistible groove that makes virtue seem vastly overrated.

What makes *Let There Be Rock* so enduring is its absolute commitment to its own mythology. This is AC/DC as comic book supervillains, larger than life but utterly believable in their excess. Bon Scott, in particular, is on fire throughout, his voice a perfect blend of menace and mischief. Whether he's playing the role of sexual predator, juvenile delinquent, or rock'n'roll evangelist, he inhabits each character completely, making even the most outrageous lyrics feel like dispatches from some alternate reality where leather jackets are formal wear and Marshall stacks are religious artifacts.

The rhythm section of Malcolm Young, bassist Mark Evans, and drummer Phil Rudd provides an unshakeable foundation, their interplay so tight it seems telepathic. This is the engine room that would power AC/DC through decades of success, a rhythm section that understood that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is play the same riff with unwavering conviction until it becomes a force of nature.

Four decades later, *Let There Be Rock* remains a high-water mark for hard rock, an album that influenced everyone from Metallica to The White Stripes. Its impact can be heard in every band that's ever plugged in a guitar and decided that louder was indeed better. While AC/DC would go on to achieve greater commercial success with *Highway to Hell* and *Back in Black*, they never again captured the raw, unfiltered power that courses through every second of this album.

In an era of overthinking and over-production, *Let There Be Rock* stands as a monument to the power of simplicity executed with absolute conviction. It's an album that proves sometimes the most profound statement you can make is to plug in, turn up, and let