Possibly the best show I have ever seen. I was on the floor in row 27. Here is an atricle on the show I found on a local review site:
Yeah, I know it's only August. Yeah, I know Metallica are coming.
No, I haven't forgotten the Costello and Coldplay shows. But let's be honest: When it comes to big-ass, barn-burning, blow-your-face-off rock spectacle, it's hard to beat AC/DC. And when you put AC/DC in a sold-out Canad Inns Stadium on one of the few reasonably warm, sunny and dry Saturdays of the summer, well, it doesn't get better than that. If you don't believe me, ask the 41,000 crazed fans of all shapes, sizes and ages who were lucky enough to get tickets -- and the thousands more who wished they had.
Yep, everybody loves AC/DC, including The Big Rock God Upstairs and his old lady Mother Nature, judging by the weather. Why? Because AC/DC are the most dependable band in the universe. Other acts come and go, rise and fall, but the Aussie rockers never change, never grow up, never wimp out. You buy one of their CDs or concert tickets, you know exactly what you're getting: A hearty portion of meat-and-potatoes guitar-rock. It's the musical comfort food they've dished out since your Dad dug them. And when they served it again last night, the crowd ate it up.
Mounting their ginormous stage at the south end of the field just after sunset -- and after a lascivious cartoon involving a runaway train full of hotties -- the band made a literally explosive entrance, blasting out their recent single Rock N Roll Train in front of a full-size, smoke-belching, spark-spewing locomotive.Flanked by massive vertical video screens and illuminated by a gigantic, arcing canopy of lights, the men of Acca Dacca then proceeded to do what they were put on this planet to do: Crank out classic riff-rockers at full volume and full blast while entertaining the hell out of all concerned (while working harder than guys of their age and income need to).
Granted, if you've seen one concert, you've seen them all. Including this one. Everything and everyone was the same as last time and the time before that -- as if the band had been frozen after their last tour and thawed for this one. Brian Johnson -- the old man at 61 -- was sporting his ever-present snap-brim cap, black sleeveless shirt and jeans, and lumbered and minced around the stage and out on a crazy-long catwalk, caterwauling like a rabid polecat with its tail in a trap. Schoolboy-togged lead guitarist Angus Young -- the baby at 54, despite his receding hairline -- was a sweaty wee Tasmanian devil, pumping his legs and bobbing his head, seldom glancing at his signature Gibson SG as he peeled off blistering solos on autopilot. His taciturn elder brother and rhythm guitarist Malcolm was firmly rooted to the right flank of rock-solid drummer Phil Rudd's bare-bones kit, with bassist Cliff Williams holding down the left side -- except on the occasions when the duo would march 10 steps forward to bark a backup vocal and then retreat.
Aside from the train gag and a handful of cuts from last year's megaselling Black Ice, the show was pretty much an amalgam of previous tours.
Following an encore of Highway to Hell, the show was slated to close with the anthemic For Those About to Rock (We Salute You), punctuated as always with a fusillade from stage-mounted cannons.
And barring some sort of mishap involving the space-time continuum, you can bet the farm that's exactly what happened.
Rock N' Roll Train
Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be
Back in Black
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Shot Down in Flames
Shoot to Thrill
Dog Eat Dog
You Shook Me All Night Long
Whole Lotta Rosie
Let There Be Rock
Highway to Hell
For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)