The 1957 song that changed AC/DC frontman Brian Johnson’s life
There are moments, even in childhood, that immediately feel consequential, which appear out of nowhere. For AC/DC frontman Brian Johnson, it was a sick day off school that transformed his trajectory.
During his early childhood in Newcastle during the 1950s, rock ‘n’ roll existed in far-flung places like Mississippi, not in his world. It was nothing more than a distant dream from his industrial reality. Nevertheless, Johnson had the determination burning inside of him to give it everything he had in order to achieve that seemingly impossible ambition.
The crucial discovery that led to Johnson betting on himself in his pursuit was, like for many others, hearing Little Richard for the first time. It was a watershed moment, and the rockstar became convinced it was all he wanted to do with his life.
Johnson was yet to be a teenager when Little Richard came moonsaulting his way into his life with ‘Tutti Frutti’, an earworm that he still adores to this day. His initial exposure to the architect of rock ‘n’ roll occurred by chance, but the unexpected happy accident inadvertently altered his life ambitions.
During an appearance on the Rockonteurs podcast with Gary Kemp and Guy Pratt, the AC/DC singer was asked to reflect on when he was at the start of his musical journey and who inspired him. “Little Richard,” he sharply replied when asked about the type of singer he wanted to be.
Johnson then shared his first memories of Little Richard, revealing: “I’ll never forget, I was a kid, the BBC had things called the Interlude, it would be things like a potter, a fucking goldfish, some crap. And one day, I was off school for the dentist, and this voice said, ‘And now, from America, a young man called Little Richard with his record’.”
He went on to provide a brief yet perfect rendition of ‘Tutti Frutti’ and elaborated on his initial reaction to hearing it for the first time all those years ago, like it was yesterday, “My jaw dropped, and I was going, ‘What the hell was that?’ It was brilliant, I was tingling.”
As soon as the song finished, Johnson just wanted to hear it again and again, but sadly, that wasn’t a possibility, much to his frustration, sharing, “It finished, and of course, we didn’t have a record player because Dad wouldn’t allow it. There was no way you could hear it again, and I was desperate.”
For the next few weeks, Johnson couldn’t get ‘Tutti Frutti’ out of his head, and he was longing to hear it again like an addict craves their next fix. Until suddenly, a genie fulfilled his wish, adding, “Then, when I was on the way back from school, I heard it from this house.”
While most right-minded people would have continued walking past the stranger’s house, Johnson needed to hear it on full blast. He instead slyly crept up to the window to saviour every second of ‘Tutti Frutti’.
He didn’t conceal his movements very discreetly, however. The owner of the home quickly spotted him and asked what in the earth was going on. Upon hearing his explanation, she opened the window and played ‘Tutti Frutti’ again through her record player for him to hear.
“The thing I remember more than anything is that she came back onto the step. I thought she was an old woman; she was probably 21, and she started throwing hand jives,” he joyfully remembered.
It’s a memory that has lasted a lifetime for Johnson and shows the power of music as a tool for bringing strangers together. Apart from geography, there was nothing that should have had the ability to unite them, yet Little Richard was a talent who could make anyone come together and dance.
‘Tutti Frutti’ didn’t just provide Johnson with a formative childhood memory; it unlocked a part of his mind that made anything seem possible. While there were still two decades of hard graft that followed before success arrived, this was the first domino to fall, which kick-started it all.
