After The Noise
Everything Is Equal
Friday 13 March 2026
AC/DC – Shoot to Thrill (1980)
Here we go. The perils of Friday the 13th. I’ve remained unscathed.
Miserable Manchester traffic. Rain. Grey skies. And suddenly AC/DC. Just what I needed. Bloody weather. Never mind After the Noise. I should rename the playlist After the Sunshine.
Perfect. Head nodding in total approval as spray bestows itself upon my beloved Skoda.
I love AC/DC. For them to lose Bon Scott in such tragic circumstances, regroup, bring in Brian Johnson and release Back in Black is one of the great comeback stories. Brian Johnson had almost packed it in before that call came. Imagine that. One phone call changed everything.
He’s still the same bloke now. Flat cap. Loves a pint. Geordie accent untouched after decades in America. His book The Lives of Brian is well worth your time. Even better, the great man reads the audio book himself.
The classic line-up: Johnson, Young, Young (RIP), Williams and Rudd.
AC/DC are the ultimate “does what it says on the tin” band. Even the later records sound like AC/DC and no one else. No reinvention. No apologies. Angus Young is a genius guitarist, twanging those strings in his schoolboy uniform like he means it.
I’m nodding along like I’m at the back of a gig, John Peel-style. If I felt braver, I’d be doing Angus Young air guitar in the car. I have done before. Just not today.
Less road rage these days. Not none. Just less. You’ll never fully escape the idiots of the streets.
Classic AC/DC doing its job perfectly.
Always a hard act to follow. Something completely different beckons.
Moondog – Theme (Instrumental) (1969)
Bongos.
That already makes me happy. I’m a simple man with simple needs.
Bongos are very overlooked. And the late Moondog (crazy name, crazy bloke) was undoubtedly slightly unhinged, but in the good creative sense of the word rather than the serial-killer variety.
This is fascinating, but also slightly terrifying. If I were driving down a country road at three in the morning listening to this, I’d be genuinely spooked.
Moondog dabbled in all sorts of things and even made his own instruments. I’m sensing a lot of not caring about convention in my brief encounter with his work.
It reminds me of the sort of music that turns up in those old anthology horror films. Tales from the Crypt (1972) springs to mind. That classic Amicus/Hammer era. There’s a scene in one story where Richard Greene is followed by a motorcyclist skeleton who chases him to his death. A hearty tale based on The Monkey’s Paw.
In the same film, Joan Collins gets murdered by Father Christmas.
Church bells. A creaking door at the end. Absolutely not helping. Some spooky voice.
Genuinely unnerved and thankful I’m not driving down a desolate country road at 3 am.
Luckily, it’s 08:45 in Salford. And it’s raining. Thank God it’s light.
Intriguing. Unsettling. Effective.
Mildly terrifying.
Hopefully something less unnerving next.
Leon Russell – It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry (1971)
Phew.
Despite working Sunday, I still get that Friday feeling that used to annoy me so much when I worked most Saturdays.
Looking forward to my one day off. Going out for a meal and hoping Cambridge United can bag three points against Gillingham. Not too much to ask after two draws.
I only really know Leon Russell because of The Union, his album with Elton John. A brilliant late-career collaboration. He’s gone now, sadly, but this proves just how long he’d been doing this.
This is blues, straight up. And when blues comes on, you know exactly where you stand.
That voice. Rough. Weathered. Confident. Somewhere between Joe Cocker and something more grounded. This isn’t a nod-along song. This is a slow head-swirler.
Makes me want to explore more of his solo work. A man who clearly knew exactly what he was doing.
I’ll get round to it eventually. I always say that.
And then forget.
Speaking of forgetting, another artist I’ve meant to listen to for years appears next…
Nico – Winter Song (1967)
One I’ve never quite got round to, despite being a long-time Velvet Underground devotee. Which is odd, really, because this sounds exactly how I imagined it would.
Same era. Same atmosphere. That fragile, drifting closeness to the Velvets without feeling like a copy.
Utterly wonderful.
Sparse, cold and quietly beautiful. Music that doesn’t demand attention but rewards it if you’re actually listening. It feels of its time without being trapped by it.
My head’s a lot clearer today. Properly clearer. And this is exactly the sort of track that lets you notice that difference.
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