When Bon Scott took that final drunken walk into the great beyond, every critic in the world wrote their smug, self-satisfied obituaries for AC/DC. But the Young brothers don’t read critics—hell, they barely read anything. So instead of dying, they hired a Geordie screamer with a voice so sharp it could cut steel and so loud it could crack open the gates of Valhalla. The comeback that followed was a resurrection by fire. The Brian Johnson years proved that AC/DC could still make the world shake like a cheap motel bed in a thunderstorm. Let’s count ’em down, you glorious animal.

---

#3 –The Razors Edge (199

The Razors Edge is the sound of AC/DC in full late-career berserker mode, storming out of the ’80s with a fistful of riffs and zero patience for anyone who thought they were past their prime. Johnson screams like a man plugged directly into a fucking high-voltage substation, and Angus tears into these songs like he’s trying to carve his name into the Earth’s crust. “Thunderstruck” alone is a weapon of mass destruction, an electric harpoon meant for the rib cage of every jerk-off poser band dumb enough to crowd the airwaves. “Are You Ready” feels like a barroom riot about to break out, and the whole album hits like the last thing you hear before the lights go out. It’s AC/DC reminding the world that they never stopped being dangerous but just got sharper.

2. For Those About to Rock (We Salute You) (1981)

For Those About to Rock is AC/DC standing at the top of the mountain after Back In Black and deciding, “Fuck it—let’s fire a goddamn cannon.” This follow-up is a straight up a declaration of war screamed through Brian Johnson’s industrial-strength sandpaper vocal cords. The title track alone could level a small city blasting holes straight through your chest cavity while Angus riffs like he’s wrangling lightning with his bare hands. “Put the Finger on You” struts with that sleazy, hip-shaking confidence only AC/DC can get away with, and “Evil Walks” crawls out of the speakers like a demon looking for a cigarette and a fistfight. This is the band flexing their newfound immortality, being louder, meaner, and cockier than ever, daring anyone alive to try and top them. Spoiler: nobody ever did.

---

1. Back In Black (1980)

This is one of the greatest rock albums ever pressed into vinyl, plastic, or the memory chips of your cheap-ass phone. This motherfucker rose from the ashes of tragedy like a leather-wearing phoenix flipping off mortality itself. Back In Black is AC/DC distilled into a single blackout-inducing punch to the jaw. Brian Johnson storms into the band with a voice like barbed wire dipped in holy water, performing his debut so violently it should come with a warning label. “Hells Bells” tolls for the past, “Shoot to Thrill” electrifies your bones, “Back In Black” struts like a panther wearing sunglasses indoors, and “You Shook Me All Night Long” is the closest thing rock has ever had to a perfect pop song that still smells like cigarette burns and sin. This album isn’t just iconic and goddamn immortal. A thunderous middle finger to fate and a love letter to the loudest life imaginable.

AC/DC with Brian Johnson is the sound of a band refusing to die. It’s grit, sweat, grief, revival, stubbornness, triumph, and the kind of volume that could knock barnacles off a battleship. These albums don’t just rock—they endure. They punch through generations like a shockwave made of denim, fire, and pure goddamn human stubbornness. Listening to them is a reminder that rock ’n’ roll isn’t about perfection—it’s about survival, swagger, and turning everything up until the whole fucking world hums with electricity. Put these records on. Let Brian scream your sins away. Let the riffs rearrange your spine. Let the thunder roll. Long live the roar. Long live the scream. Long live AC/DC.