Intractably yours, AC/DC
Entering the 21st century, the casualty count in Angus Young's war against his own brain cells must number in the incalculable millions.
It's a snide compliment to him. The truth of the matter is that, perhaps more than any band in the history of rock and roll, AC/DC is more decorated to their endless addiction to rock and roll, and no formula for its tireless production has proved to be more successful.
After a rather forgettable decade that stretched from the late 80's to the late 90's, and included a miscellany of albums on which the band seemed to audibly tire, and in which their denim vests and wife beaters seemed antique amid zebra tights and teased hair, AC/DC's popularity caught a notable updraft, precipitated in equal parts by an outstanding release in Ballbreaker, and by the vinyl lust and crate appetites of a generation of vintage rock lovers.
Come 2008, they had released Black Ice to renewed critical acclaim and launched another byzantine world tour. The global journey is their lengthiest in years (this is their second stop in Minneapolis in the last half year), and the album is among the very best of the Johnson era, taking a rather distant but still admirable bronze medal to Back in Black and Razor's Edge.
The best part? Tour footage indicates that Angus Young has lost nothing off his duck walk, and his performances continue to be the most aerobic and perspiratory in the music world. Singer Brian Johnson still looks perpetually constipated, but from your nosebleed seats, he should be easy to block out with your thumb.