Rock epic of the month: "Let There Be Rock" (AC/DC) 1977

Rock epics of the month is a series of posts where I'll look back on classic examples of what I think is the greatest excess of rock and roll - the rock epic.

I have tickets to see AC/DC next year. Yes folks, I will be one of those black-clad bogans seeing these guys live.

And I guarantee you this: I too will be perpetrating the following atrocities in the name of rock:

• Punching my fist in the air;
• Goat’s head salutes;
• Air guitaring; and
• Headbanging

And maybe some slamming as well, although AC/DC have never really been a band that you can slam to.

OK. So to celebrate, I’m doing ‘Let There Be Rock’ this month.

Acca Dacca were never really a band that did anything other than meat and potatoes rock and/or roll. I can find very few bona fide rock epics in their vast back catalogue so it’s either this or ‘Night Prowler’. So I thought I’d go for the screaming obvious and do this one.

‘Let There Be Rock’ clocks in at 6:06. And you know, the album that it’s off (Let There Be Rock, of course) correctly shows a band hitting some sort of creative stride. In the case of this tune, however, the tune just takes off like a racing car and keeps going like it’s completely out of control.

Phil Rudd’s drums sound like a gorilla is pounding on them and lead vocalist, the late Bon Scott just sounds like he’s totally mental as he tells the tale of how ROCK!! came into being. But while Angus Young might be the face of AC/DC, here the focus is on the rock solid riffing of Malcolm Young on rhythm guitar and bassist Mark Evans.

If there was any doubt (surely not) prior to this album that Malcolm Young is the engine room of this band, then this album, and this song in particular, put all speculation to rest.

The fact of the matter is this: AC/DC simply would not work without the riffs of Malcolm Young. You can remove Angus, because he’s essentially visual: The thing that everyone remembers about AC/DC songs if you're listening to them at home is the monolithic riffs of Malcolm. Even if some feel that they’re a bit samey.

Incidentally, have you ever seen people criticise AC/DC for this, and then it turns out that they’re fans of another “samey” act such as The Cure or The Church? I have. But this is their thing, their schtick. Their particular aural signature, if you like.

Malcolm Young’s riffs are iconic. End of story. They’re so iconic that The Cult had some sort of accident in the eighties and recorded an entire album where they thought they were AC/DC – Electric.

But don’t let me tell you. Check out this video of the song in question. Bon Scott as the preacher man looks absolutely certifiable. Angus is dressed as a choirboy or something with a cardboard halo:



Let there be rock!

Rock epic of the month: "Evie" (Stevie Wright) 1974

Rock epics of the month is a series of posts where I'll look back on classic examples of what I think is the greatest excess of rock and roll - the rock epic.

This month, I've got a special Decemberween present for you, and it's another three-parter.

Yes. Stevie Wright. "Evie". Parts I, II and III.

You know, we're now in a period where Australian rock icons from the sixties and seventies are dropping off the twig at an alarming rate. Every time you hear of another Australian rocker biting the dust, someone will always meet your gaze with a grim look on their face that only ever means one thing: "I know what you're thinking, because I'm thinking it too. Stevie Wright is next."

It's testament to this guy's general fortitude that he hasn't died, because he should have. Jack Marx once wrote a rather indulgent biography of Wright where the pair of them holed up in Wright's home in Narooma, NSW and did lots of smack together.

Depending on who you believe, Marx either wrote one of the greatest pieces of gonzo journalism in the history of rock and roll, or a self-serving tome that would have been better titled, An Autobiography of Jack Marx.

I haven't read it, so we'll leave it there.

Anyway, Wright was the lead singer in the sixties with a band that took Australian guitar pop-rock to the world, The Easybeats. The Easybeats were hyperbolically described as 'The Australian Beatles", but their sound had more in common with bands like The Searchers and The Hollies than the Fab Four.

The Easybeats broke up in the early seventies when it became clear that the songwriting and producing savvy of guitarists Harry Vanda and George Young were being stifled by the band's - and in particular Wright's - serious drug problems.

Young, incidentally, had two younger brothers, Malcolm and Angus, who would go on to form the nucleus of Australia's most internationally successful band, AC/DC.

Wright, undeterred by his own demons, went on to start a patchy solo career, with some assistance from Vanda and Young who penned and produced this tune, which is a monster at 11:08.

"Evie (Parts I, II and III)" is apparently the longest tune to chart as a single anywhere, although, I would hazard a guess that there are others.

The first part is a full-on rocker where the narrator longs to take the object of his desire, who I suppose is named Evie, out on a date to see a band, and longs for her to let her hair hang down. Obviously, Wright, Vanda and Young were clearly influenced by the new emerging sound coming out of the pubs in Australia which was louder and riffier than what was going on during The Easybeats' heyday in the sixties.

The tune then segues into the second part which is, for all intents and purposes, a piano-driven love ballad. Our narrator is clearly lovestruck by the object of his desire who he can now call his lady. It would almost be called "gut-wrenching", except that love ballads are usually cheesy schlock. Still, "Evie Part II" is not as bad as some.

The last part shows Vanda and Young's gift for a lethal hook in the chorus, with a twist. The narrator is now singing about losing Evie, and over blaring guitars playing a rising chord progression, he sings "Before I know it I'm losing you," enough to make it clear that this is no ordinary tale of love gone wrong. Oh no, Evie is buying the farm, after losing a child in childbirth.

Recently, a band of all-star musicians covered not one, not two, but all three parts of Evie as part of a "supergroup" who called themselves The Wrights. This outfit was made up of the following musicians:

Nic Cester (Jet) - vocals, Evie Part I
Mark "Kram" Maher (Spiderbait) - drums
Chris Cheney (The Living End) - guitar
Davey Lane (You Am I/The Pictures) - guitar
Pat Bourke (Dallas Crane) - bass
Daniel Vandenberg (son of Harry Vanda) - piano, Evie Part I
Bernard Fanning (Powderfinger) - vocals, Evie Part II
Warren "Pig" Morgan (Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs) - piano, Evie Part II
Phil Jamieson (Grinspoon) - vocals, Evie Part III
Dan Knight (Boof) - Hammond organ, Evie Part III

Vanda himself assists with production, backing vocals and string arrangements on Part II. The Wrights did a very faithful job.

But anyway, here's a couple of vids for you.

The first one is Wright himself performing Evie Part I live from the Opera House forecourt some time in the seventies:



The second (you'll have to turn the volume up as it is quite low) is Wright singing parts II and III from the same gig, however Part III is cut off halfway through, but you'll get the idea. Enjoy: