“Horrible things”: The song that makes Brian Johnson sick
The one thing I always remind myself to give me an unwavering sense of belief in the future of music is that there has always been commercial trash to push back against. Right now, it’s social media and the incessant need to write a hook to soundtrack bland cooking montages online. It feels bleak and unprecedented, but when you boil it down to its core, it is just another guise of commercialism sinking its teeth into authenticity. What Fontaines DC are dealing with now is no different, in essence, to what AC/DC may have had to put up with at the end of the last century.
It’s a necessary evil if anything, a wall of shit for counterculture to push against as it continually provides us with something more substantial and meaningful. Nevertheless, bad label representatives and seedy managers will do their utmost to get their grubby mits on artists and smear them in corporate paint, in a bid to make them a shiny and lucrative figure.
They’ve even had the audacity to try it with the likes of AC/DC. The godfathers of rock, leaders of the mosh pit and bastions of sticking it to the man were no stranger to the creepy crawlies of mercantilism. But no matter how big the stadium and how lucrative the merchandise, the band would never really waver from the blueprint that got them there. The innate allure of plugging their instruments, ramping it up to ten and letting it rip.
But their ability to incite a sea of chaos in the crowd was built on more than just volume. Particularly when Brian Johnson joined the ranks in 1980, with his powerful and soulful roar. He overcame the obvious hurdles faced by a newly joined band member and became iconic in his own right, with his voice in particular soundtracking a decade of rock.
But such a skill had the suits rubbing their hands together. How could we leverage the power of this man’s artistry, they wondered. According to Johnson, they had one genre in particular that they were keen for the band to dabble in. When asked what it was, he said, “Yeah, back in the mid-’80s, when there were horrible things like [croons in a lounge-singer voice], ‘We built this city on rock and roll.’ That still makes me puke to this day.”
If you ever needed a reminder of the pitfalls of overzealous commercialism, then let this be it. The mere sight of Brian Johnson crooning on top of a stomp and clap soft rock ballad is enough to send you into an anxious tailspin.
Perhaps more importantly, it is how Johnson’s rejection of the style indicates the unwavering sense of authenticity that sits at the heart of the band. Johnson’s inclusion in the band came at the 11th hour of his career, when the choice between continuing his artistic endeavours and settling down was looming large, and so had he made a choice to plunge the band into commercial waters, you would somewhat understand. But that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the band, and thank god for that.
