Thousands of old people, watching a group of old men dance around in front of the Hogwarts Express. This is rock and roll.
Almost 50,000 sets of wrinkled fingers twist into pathetic hand-grimaces – weak parodies of the famous devil horns.
The Hogwarts Express is now being ridden by a gigantic inflatable caricature of Barbara Windsor - with breasts that are literally bigger than my Dad’s car. Bigger than the 4WDs owned by half of the audience.
I am at the Sydney Olympic Stadium, watching AC/DC perform here for the first time since 2003. A gigantic model locomotive towers over the stage. ‘Hornby Train Sets’ meets ‘Spinal Tap’.
I am actually enjoying myself. I am actually entertained, insofar as it’s better than sitting at home and watching Packed To The Rafters or the ABC’s tooth-grindingly bad Bed of Roses. (Kerry Armstrong has got to be the wettest person in Australia.)
But I can’t take my eyes of the drunken businessman dancing in front of me, bipping and bopping like he’s in the dance hall of a P&O cruise. This is rock and roll.
Twenty years ago, the same man seeing the same band would have been pushed over and laughed at by thrashing young meat-bags, pointing their fingers and banging their long-haired heads.
Fifteen years ago, the girls at this concert would have been waggling their naked breasts and going “wild”, as they say in the USA.
But tonight, they saw themselves on two-hundred foot high digital screens and giggled and shook their underwire bras, and waved to their fat husbands in the first row.
Rock and Roll was an issue of Smash My Stupid Face In magazine. Now it’s a lingerie catalogue.
Rock and roll meant something. It shouted like a rabid otter into the face of the world.
It didn’t shout anything important, as much as Bob Geldof and Bone-Oh would disagree, but it jumped up and down and pulled its penis out and scared us like a witty and colourfully dressed, but inevitably destitute, tramp.
It doesn’t make me angry. But it is sad.
It’s like watching Bill Clinton slowly succumb to heart disease – sure, he was never a responsible President, but he was fun.
It’s like watching a corpse being pumped with 50,000 volts of electricity – it’s loud, it flashes, it jiggles about and it’s very entertaining, but it’s still dead.
Actually, now that I think about it, putting an electrified corpse on stage is about the most outrageously rock and roll thing a band could do.
I can already see the tour posters: ‘The AC/DC reunion tour – The band performs with its original lineup, for the first time since 1979.’
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