Angus Young biography: AC/DC’s last man standing

A NEW Angus Young biography tells of the band’s raucous early life before they hit the big time, detailing the guitarist’s rise to fame. READ THE BOOK EXTRACT.

MICHAEL Browning was always on the lookout for groups to book. One morning he was on the phone with his colleague Michael Chugg, a Sydney-based promoter.

‘Got any new bands, Chuggy?’ he asked.

Chugg mentioned that there was a new act doing the rounds, featuring the younger brothers of George Young.

‘They’re called AC/DC. You should check them out.’

Browning didn’t need a lot of convincing. He’d been a huge fan of The Easybeats, and figured that an act with such impressive bloodlines was at least worth a look. He learned that AC/DC was currently on a national tour with Lou Reed — along with another former Easybeat, the troubled Stevie Wright — and booked them to play at the Hard Rock for mid-August 1974, when they’d be in town with Reed.

It was hard to miss Angus as the band got ready for their debut Hard Rock gig: he was the only person backstage in a school uniform, the letter A emblazoned on his cap, a lit ciggie clouding his face in smoke. Browning wasn’t convinced that Angus was with the band; perhaps he was a crazy fan, or someone’s truant little brother.

‘This is a venue for grown-ups,’ Browning thought to himself. ‘What’s Chuggy on about?’

Angus, Malcolm and the band plugged in and began to play. Now the veteran of a few dozen gigs, Angus had shed his anxiousness on stage and immersed himself in his character, the guitar-wielding schoolboy from hell.

He busted out some Chuck Berry moves and then collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own sweat, legs flailing in the air like a dying bug, all the while spitting out a mind-blowing solo on his trusty SG.

It was a remarkable thing to witness from close range, and Browning was left speechless.

At first he was concerned that Angus was having a seizure, but he soon recognised it for what it was: pure rock and roll excitement. And he could see the band had enormous potential.

‘I just couldn’t take my eyes — or my ears — off Angus and Malcolm,’ he admitted.

So just how did this dying bug routine come to Angus?

It seemed that he once tripped over while playing and, fearing humiliation, just kept going while prone. The accident went over so well it became part of his act.

‘Yeah, I tripped over a lead,’ he confirmed to a DJ at Sydney’s 2JJ, ‘fell on me knees … I thought people thought I was a f***in’ idiot so I started bobbin’ around on the ground.’

As for his onstage hyperactivity — that was a practical decision. Angus figured that the more he moved, the less chance there was that he’d be hit by a flying can, or bottle, or worse.

That August night at the Hard Rock couldn’t have been more fortuitous for the band. Browning was still dreaming of managing the first Australian group to crack the international market, an ambition that dovetailed neatly with Malcolm’s plans for global domination.

After AC/DC’s set, Browning paid the band members $200 and asked what they had coming up.

Malcolm said they were playing shows in Adelaide and Perth, and then planned to swing by Melbourne again, on their way back to Sydney. Browning quickly booked them for some return Hard Rock dates.

 

THE Reed tour would prove to be a blessing, of sorts, for Angus and the group. At their gig in Adelaide on 17 August, former Fraternity singer Bon Scott was in the crowd, looking on as Angus tangled with a gaggle of hecklers at the front of the stage.

‘Hey,’ a yob yelled at the kid with the satchel, taunting him. ‘Come on down here, mate.’

Angus ran an eye over the unruly mob and stepped up to the microphone. ‘Go and get f***ed,’ he growled.