One of the worst things a rockstar can do is bore the crowd. Fans come to shows to be entertained, not to watch an artist stare at their feet or turn the performance into a self-indulgent spectacle. Malcolm Young knew this better than most, having spent decades electrifying audiences with AC/DC. But while he had immense respect for great showmanship, he had no patience for performers who dragged things out unnecessarily.
If anyone understood commitment to a performance, it was Malcolm’s brother, Angus. Even in a band as no-frills as AC/DC, Angus Young was a force of nature, duckwalking across the stage in his signature schoolboy uniform, channeling the manic energy of Chuck Berry. While their music was simple, their live shows were anything but boring, keeping the adrenaline pumping from start to finish.
But as the 1980s rolled in, the rock landscape began to shift. The bombast of the ’70s was making way for new trends, and bands had to adapt. While AC/DC remained one of the biggest live acts in the world, MTV and stadium-sized spectacles were taking over. U2 was one of the biggest bands to rise in that era, with Bono’s soaring vocals and grand stage presence making them a dominant force. Songs like “I Will Follow” were tailor-made for stadiums, and Bono’s impassioned speeches in the middle of their performances were a hallmark of their shows.
However, Malcolm Young wasn’t exactly a fan of that approach. While U2 had their fair share of anthems, Bono’s tendency to lecture the crowd didn’t sit well with him. The 1988 concert film Rattle and Hum captured this dynamic perfectly—what some saw as inspiring monologues, others found self-indulgent, and Malcolm fell firmly in the latter camp.
But the real breaking point came when The Edge inducted The Clash into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Malcolm, already skeptical of U2’s style, found the speech unbearable.
Reflecting on the moment, he said, “He was the most boring bloke I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. We were at the side [of the stage], waiting, and getting madder and madder, even though we had sympathy [for the rest of The Clash].
So when they said to go, we fuckin’ took off. It was an anger-fuelled performance. We ripped the place apart.”
While The Edge was likely trying to do justice to The Clash’s legacy, Malcolm saw it differently. Years of sharing the stage with Bono may have left an imprint, making the speech feel more like a drawn-out lecture than a celebration of rock and roll. For Malcolm, the essence of rock wasn’t about long-winded speeches—it was about energy, attitude, and letting the music speak for itself.
By contrast, when AC/DC was inducted into the Rock Hall, they let their music do the talking. While Steven Tyler gave them a relatively subdued introduction, Malcolm and his bandmates made their case the way they always had—with raw, unrelenting rock and roll. Because at the end of the day, no matter how many heartfelt words are spoken at a ceremony, nothing gets the message across quite like a killer riff.
