8:59am, my curser is hovering over the refresh button on the
Ticketmaster website. Bang. 9am – refresh. Nooooo, I’m in a queue with the
never ending circle of death going round and round and round. Finally – 9:04am
and the tickets are bought.
We would be heading to Wembley on the 4th of July
to watch Rock legends AC/DC – one of our family’s favourite bands. When I told
my mam on the phone that I managed to get tickets she apparently almost cried.
A bit extreme, but we do love some Rock or Bust.
After some margaritas in Covent Garden and a belly full of Chinese
food in Chinatown we jumped on the tube and made our way over to the stadium.
We caught the last few songs from Los Angeles blues band Vintage Trouble, a
band that I’ve loved for a few years, before taking our place in the middle of
the floor ready to hear some guitar solos from the uniform-wearing Angus Young.
As people returned from the bar with trays of booze, Brian
Johnson’s unmistakable voice could be heard echoing across Northwest
London. The band transitioned from Rock
or Bust into Shoot to Thrill and classics rock anthem, Back to Black, and the
crowd were bouncing – both young and old – and that’s how they remained for the
next two hours.
Middle aged men were dancing as if they were 21 again with
their now non-existent hair swishing around as they head banged to classics
such as Whole Lotta Rosie and T.N.T. I think that’s one of the reasons I love
going to gigs – people forget about their day-to-day struggles, let loose and
enjoy.
As You Shook Me All Night Long and Hells Bells were played I
experienced a moment of genuine joy that I hadn’t felt in a long while. My
brother, his friend and I were jumping up and down to the beat as if our lives
depended on it, singing ‘till our lungs felt on fire. Amazing.
After Young finished his mammoth guitar solo during Let
There Be Rock, the band finished the evening with the cannon’s of For Those About
to Rock (We Salute You) sounding around the stadium.
Magical.
Witnessing what could possible be AC/DC’s last concert on
British soil was pretty cool (understatement) and watching the tens of
thousands of fans walking towards Wembley Park tube-station, red horns flashing
and voices still belting, was an experience I will never forget.
Sprinting through Waterloo station to catch the last train
however, is an experience I would really like to forget.
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