Still Thunderstruck: AC/DC Rocks Vancouver

I never thought I’d get to say this: I finally saw AC/DC live. After decades of hearing my father talk about catching them at some dingy ice rink in Paris in the early ’70s for 10 francs: “the sound was terrible, but it was loud,” this show was personal. My father was my gateway to rock: Rolling Stones, Status Quo, all the big dogs. But AC/DC was one unchecked name on the list.

It’s wild to think that in 2025, a band that’s been around longer than most of the crowd has been alive can still pack out a stadium. Not just pack it, shake it. BC Place felt like it was about to crack in half when Angus Young duck-walked onto the stage in a blue velvet schoolboy uniform, Gibson SG in hand, and they tore into “If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It).” From there, it was banger after banger: “Back in Black,” “Rock’n Roll Train,” “Hells Bells,” “Thunderstruck,” you name it. A setlist built for fists in the air and busted vocal cords by the end of the night.

Brian Johnson, now 77, looked like he was having a riot. He’s been through the wringer with his hearing, and you could tell he was savouring every second of being back. His voice isn’t what it once was, but he gave it hell. And that’s all you really want from a guy who’s been screaming his lungs out since before most of us were born.

Angus was, well, Angus. Seventy and still running circles around dudes half his age. His guitar solos are their own form of cardio, including a never-ending one during “Let There Be Rock” that might’ve aged me a year just watching it. At one point he was flat on his back, surrounded by confetti, still shredding. Iconic.

Sure, there’s only one original member left in the band. But this lineup, with Stevie Young on rhythm guitar (Malcolm’s nephew), Chris Chaney on bass, and Matt Laug on drums, held it down tight. The whole engine still roars. And nobody in that crowd was complaining. We were all there to yell along to songs we grew up with, passed down like heirlooms from older siblings, from our parents, from radio stations that haven’t changed their playlists since ’89.

They did a couple tracks off 2020’s Power Up, like “Shot in the Dark” and “Demon Fire,” which actually held up pretty well alongside the classics. But let’s be real: the meat of this show was the hits. “Highway to Hell” had everyone in full scream-along mode, and “You Shook Me All Night Long” probably triggered some life-changing flashbacks in more than a few people around me.

The stage setup wasn’t flashy, but it didn’t need to be. Just a wall of Marshall amps, some big screens, and a lighting rig that knew when to blast and when to stay dark. The music was the show. That’s always been AC/DC’s thing. No frills. Just riffs.

Opening act The Pretty Reckless brought some serious fire too. Taylor Momsen stomped across that massive stage like she owned it, channelling vintage rock god energy. Huge vocals, tons of attitude, and a perfect fit to warm us up. Honestly, she could’ve held that stage for an hour longer and no one would’ve complained.

This concert was a full-circle moment, a bucket list checkmark. One of those rare times where something actually lives up to the weight you’ve given it in your head. I don’t care if it’s not the “original” lineup, it’s still AC/DC. Still loud, still proud, still making 50,000 people forget about the outside world for two hours.

So yeah, I finally saw AC/DC. And they still rock.