AC/DC Ushers In a New Ball Game

Tonight on the menu, a choice slab from one of heavy metal's greatest purveyors of down and dirty moves. AC/DC returns to the scene with "Play Ball", not out of place during a month when World Series fever is in the air. While you're not going to confuse this effort with the crank it up, roll down the window fist pumping of "Thunderstruck" or the slap you across the mush spunk of "Back In Black", it's great when the mood demands a deep quaff of cold beer or chicken wings to appease your clan's cravings. History, albeit not a kind version takes the form of "Rock or Bust" being the first album without founding member Malcolm Young involved. Serious health concerns have placed him out of the picture going forward. Best wishes and hopeful thoughts go out to him as they do his now former bandmates. Speak of which vocalist Brian Johnson hasn't lost the sleaze appeal that made AC/DC'S swarms of fans breath easier even as they struggled to come to grips with Bon Scott's tragic death. An AC/DC record, like an Aerosmith record, doesn't play coy with listeners. You know what kind of experience you're going to have. There isn't the sort of linchpin rhythm you got with a "Thunderstruck", as in that agitated bee in a jar guitar chord sequence. If you think it's the ideal companion to a visit to the local pub you'd be spot on. Brian lets it be perfectly obvious he's in the mood to raise hall. Four decades from band conception that's not only admirable but thoroughly encouraging. The sound is wide open, lacking in the sexually artful flourishes of "You Shook Me All Night Long". Background grit perhaps, but not in an off-putting way. Whether it's because these bucks naturally have blossomed into war-tested veterans or because they know they don't have to rely on schoolyard antics to get their fans into an insane lather, there isn't some beefy guitar solo midstream letting you know it's boss and you're lucky to be in the presence of such greatness. You'd be wise to avoid a bathroom break in prep for your local rock station playing this laid back addition to the legend of AC/DC. That's because we don't even three minutes worth as due payment for our tax dollars. Now, as a rule I like for a song to leave me bedazzled when its creators go for short and sweet on the menu console. Matthew Sweet barely inched past three minutes with "We're The Same" but succeeded in launching my mood ring into a '60s peace out prevailing calm. "Spirits In The Material World" from The Police was unsettled, but brilliantly so. The arrangements were so daring I couldn't follow the percussion rhythms until after the bridge pointed out how my ears should have been digesting things? Why the tangent you ask? What I'm driving at is those two songs left me possessed of a particular mood. Matthew left me at home with my place in the world while Sting and friends made me want to punch a wide swath in the ozone hole so I could zoom right through, separating myself from my fellow homosapiens."Play Ball" can't be traced to any particular state of mind. On the one hand that's what the masses deserve to hear if that's what they ponied up their dough for. On the other hand there isn't a trademark big finish or signature lick that would improve the song's odds for a long shelf life. During "Play Ball's" playing time the testosterone is the signature lick. In summation "Play Ball" scores a strong base hit through steely drum work from Cliff Williams and the not easily contained enthusiasm of Brian Johnson. Just because not as many people will talk about "Play Ball" in 20 years as they'll continue to do with "Back In Black" that's no reason to slink away from a rousing AC/DC party song. AC/DC continues to be on the ball when it comes to giving fans of all stripes authentic metal that's going to leave them stoked. I say batter up.