I tend to do the cooking on Sunday nights here in chez 1537 and last night I had something of a religious experience / Pavlovian response* / seizure.  I always tend to listen to the radio when I cook, usually something talkie and entertaining, or something newsy and political, even something sporty at times but last night it was all shite so I tuned into Planet Rock and after a very interesting interview with Woody Woodmansey from The Spiders From Mars they blasted AC/DC ‘Shoot To Thrill’.  Not even one of my favourites from Back In Black, but without thinking about it for a second I found myself duck-walking up and down the kitchen and played what is definitely the most accurate air-guitar solo there has ever been, complete with grimacing and shaking my mane.  It was funny it isn’t a track I ever think of particularly and yet there I was, without a conscious thought** almost three minutes into my routine before I’d even noticed! Great stuff.

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It put me in mind of one of my favourite ever New Year’s Eves.  When I was 15 my parents were invited to a party at their friends, I was too but I decided I didn’t want to go, so they went, taking my brother and I was home alone. Now I grew up in an isolated farmhouse and outside the house was a raised terrace, about 8 foot, or so above the farm-yard.  A stage.  At about 11.30 I dragged my dad’s big speakers outside carefully, took a big swig of coffee, cued up If You Want Blood, You’ve Got It at a completely ridiculous volume level and became Angus Young and Bon Scott for 40 minutes, or so.  I went for it too, no stopping, note for note.  The sound from those big old speakers was VAST and I just loved absolutely every second of it, no neighbours just meant no possible embarrassments, no witnesses.

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In fact if I could go back and spy on an event in my childhood again I’d pick that one.  I know it’s silly, but I took it so seriously, no stopping, no resting, just get on and finish the show.  Just a chunk of uninhibited innocent fun and I was so lucky to have the time and space to do it in.

My duck-walking is a bit less sinuous these days and I reckon I’d struggle during the trickier solo bits on ‘Bad Boy Boogie’ now, but it was nice to make the connection to something I hadn’t really thought about in a long, long time.

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447 Down (still).

*nothing to do with Pavlovas, but thanks for asking.

**an all too often occurrence according to Mrs 1537; Pah! Wives!

18 thoughts on “Duck-Walking Days

  1. On of the greatest live albums in the history of our known universe….hell, even the unknown universes. I bought this when I was 14 at a dinky little mall north of my house. I think the first thing that struck me was the album cover. It seemed so violent and visceral to me. By the time I’d gotten to “Whole Lotta Rosie” I was floored.

    This had to have been one epic air guitar New Year’s Eve concert in the English countryside. I had a few of my own…except they were in my parent’s basement.

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  2. Terrific moment, very visual, and one I can relate to insofar as I grew up in the country and have air jammed to the entirety of Dirty Deeds (the song, though, not the album…even then I didn’t have the stamina for such a gargantuan attempt). Thanks for sharing, really enjoyed it!

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    1. Hi Ian, thank you very much! I may have been miming to a small audience of bemused nocturnal mammals and some alarmed chickens in West Wales but in my head I was headlining Wembley stadium.

      Thanks again.

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