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AC/DC riffs are so firmly embedded in the rock sub-conscious, they sound like they were written in prehistoric times. They elicit a visceral, early man reaction, causing you to uncontrollably bob your head, twist your fingers into devil's horns, and pump your arms to the throb of Angus Young's duck-walking Gibson SG. Bon Scott's bluesy snarl made him possibly the most lurid singer of all time, and though he's sorely missed upon this earth, his replacement Brian Johnson has an equally cathartic, strangulated bleat. The band's songs are relentless bursts of almost Punk simplicity and aggression adorned with arena metal trappings: cock-strutting, drum-stick twirling anthems; guitars that crackle like lethal bolts of lightning; and the occasional reference to their boss, Satan.
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