AC/DC, at its best, makes you feel like championing fun: be it via booze, blow, high-speed driving or three-way fucking. On Black Ice, the Aussie outfit reclaims its status as king of good times. The band is back swinging heavy and hard in a way that percolates the pelvic region and vaporizes inhibitions.
The disc erupts on Track 1 with the refreshingly ferocious Rock N Roll Train, which, with its killer Angus Young guitar riff, assured Brian Johnson-doing-Bon-Scott-shriek and sing along chorus, would sit well next to the best of Highway to Hell or Back in Black cuts no small feat, for sure.
Much more for the better than the worse, the band follows the same time-honored, terrifically predictable formula for the rest of the record. There is one exception, toward the end of the full-length. Angus busts out some savage slide playing on Stormy May Day thats straight from the Jimmy Page playbook.
Unoriginal? Yeah. Maybe. So? What fool decided it necessary to complicate a style of music named after screwing? AC/DC may be the smartest rock band of all time they figured out what moves people and stuck with it. And that, like fucking, is what life is all about. 4 (out of 5) stars.