AC/DC tears the roof off the Forum

The unchanged Hall of Famers rocked and roared at their first L.A. show in eight years.

By BEN WENER

The Orange County

Desert Jeff, on the phone with his girlfriend just after AC/DC's mighty rock 'n' roll spectacle Saturday night at the Forum, sharing his excitement like a wide-eyed 10-year-old who just got off Space Mountain for the first time:

"There was fire! And there were cannons! And a giant train that crashed into the stage and spit smoke everywhere! And fire! And a riser in the middle of the arena that lifted the guitarist up into the air! And fire! And the singer swung on this huge Liberty Bell, and it said AC/DC on it! And there was fire!"

He forgot the gigantic inflatable BBW hooker in heels and shredded stockings that straddled that seemingly full-size locomotive during "Whole Lotta Rosie."

But you get the idea – it was awesome. Over-the-top and SUPER LOUD and utterly predictable and totally juvenile – and very, very awesome.

And if you know anything about AC/DC, you expected as much.

After eight years away – and now boasting a chart-topping, Wal-Mart-exclusive album ("Black Ice") with the second-biggest first-week sales of any released this year (only Lil Wayne fared better) – that indefatigable imp Angus Young and the Thunder from Down Under returned in first-rate form to this old Inglewood stomping ground for the first of two sold-out shows.

As with the hundreds of ever-so-slight variations on the band's rifftastic blueprint that fill the Hall of Famers' 15 studio albums – an enduring and interchangeable catalog of hard-rock as primordial and lascivious and jolting as any available – it was as if nothing but a few bits of dιcor and Rosie's pose had changed since the last time AC/DC came 'round. Or the time before that. Or the time before that, or the time before that, or …

Consistency has always been the not-so-secret weapon of these U.K.-born Aussies. Their blue-collar background has produced in them a staunchly held keep-it-simple, give-the-people-what-they-want stance. And while that has taken forever to endear critics – it was only a few months ago that the 35-year-old quintet landed on the cover of Rolling Stone for the first time – AC/DC's narrowly focused genius has only attracted legions of new and younger fans every decade.

I can't imagine any of them left unsatisfied Saturday, especially those who shelled out $15 a pop to don blinking red devil horns. (A good third of the Forum glittered with them by the time Led Zep- and Black Crowes-aping retro rockers the Answer wrapped their opening set.)

What more could they have asked for? Oh, sure, everyone's got a personal fave that probably didn't get played. On my list: "If You Want Blood (You Got It)," "It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)," "Put the Finger on You," "Problem Child."

I'm sure the trashy rocker chicks (three of thousands on hand) across the aisle from me wished they could've flashed Angus to the tune of "Girl's Got Rhythm," not just the inevitable "You Shook Me All Night Long." "Night Prowler" would have been creepy, sludgy, rad. Jeff yelled out for "Big Balls." And "Bad Boy Boogie" might have been preferable over "The Jack" as background fun while demonic Angus ditched his trademark schoolboy gear, sliding his jacket between his pale, bony legs and revealing his sweaty, 53-year-old chest as if he were a stripper at a Spearmint Rhino.

OK, so maybe an extra half-dozen songs in 30 minutes wouldn't have been asking too much. But consider what AC/DC dished out in just under two hours – five of its strongest "Black Ice" tracks (though I'd have swapped out "Big Jack" for "Spoilin' for a Fight") plus 13 indestructible monsters of heaviness, from album staples like "Shoot to Thrill" and "Hells Bells" and staples like "Thunderstruck" and "T.N.T." and "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" and those two titans, two of the greatest rock anthems ever, "Highway to Hell" and "Back in Black." (Click here for a complete set list.)

Most impressive is that the band – Malcolm Young backing brother Angus on six strings, plus drummer Phil Rudd and bassist Cliff Williams – still storms through its classics with as much vigor and precision as it ever did. Unlike the Stones or the Who, both of which can bring different moods and feels (and sometimes fatigue) to their sets night after night, AC/DC is miraculously tight and workmanlike. For once, it's a compliment to say that a band sounds just like its records.

Brian Johnson, for my taste, remains the weak link – his asthmatic, clenched-teeth vocals have grown screechy to the point of tuneless lately – but there's no denying that the muscle man in his sleeveless shirt and cabbie's hat gives 110 percent during performances. (And when 15,000 people are shouting along to every line, you tend not to notice his shortcomings.)

Angus, meanwhile, is simply magnificent, surely one of the most underrated guitarists of all time, largely because his role in music so rudimentary is easily taken for granted. Strutting and skipping down a catwalk, duck-walking determinedly across the stage, bobbing his balding head while stomping in place, flapping his gums so much you'd think he were chomping flesh, he's a ridiculously athletic elf of a man, a bizarre creature Peter Jackson should have cast in at least one part of "Lord of the Rings."

But good God, can he play that big black Gibson guitar – lightning-fast when needed, thick and chunky otherwise, and with loads more soul than the majority of the metal progeny that have studied and mimicked his work. His extended solo during a set-closing "Let There Be Rock" was as excessive as it should have been, yet not once did it bore. There's just something strangely riveting about the guy.

As there is about AC/DC in general. "It's good to hear L.A. rockin' again!" Johnson declared. Agreed: It's been way too long since someone tore the roof off the place like this. Now, might I suggest a newfangled Monsters of Rock stadium tour for summer '09? In order of appearance, Hinder, Buckcherry, Nickelback, Aerosmith, AC/DC, KISS.

Tell me that wouldn't melt faces off.