Concert Berlin | AC/DC at Berlin's Olympic Stadium: Boom-Zack!

The little man is now 70 years old. And he still has to wear a school uniform. At least on stage. And at his advanced age, he has to play the solo entertainer and pubescent clown for the audience, who expect this kind of thing for their money.

That's the fate of Angus Young, founding member and lead guitarist of the Australian rock band AC/DC. But the man who has been the band's defining, charismatic figure since the 1970s brought it on himself. And yet, he apparently enjoys it. The Rumpelstiltskin-like quality he always had remains, even if the rhythmic back-and-forth flinging of his upper body while simultaneously headbanging, which he cultivated for decades, is practiced a bit slower and more measuredly today than before.

The viewer cannot help but get the impression that it is actually the guitar that is playing the man and not the man playing the guitar.

But who can blame him? Age leaves no one unscathed. And yet, even today, the man is constantly in restless motion, so that as a viewer you can't shake the impression that it's actually the guitar playing the man and not the man playing the guitar. His mouth is usually open and, analogous to the music, forms the letter "O" in different sizes. His knees constantly shake back and forth in a recurring pattern, his feet constantly tap the beat. And the gestures he makes over the course of Monday evening's concert in Berlin's Olympic Stadium are the classic three gestures that we know from him.

The first is the listening gesture. He looks expectantly with wide-open eyes and places the palm of his right hand behind his ear, as if to say: Now it's your turn, now comes your roar. The second is the index finger gesture, which he knows how to vary. He either points with his index finger as if it were moving autonomously without his intervention, as if lost in a dream into nowhere. Or he raises his index finger, accompanied by a facial expression that is probably intended to express a request for concentration, as if to say: "Now pay attention for a moment, friends, something significant is coming!" The third gesture is the devil's horn gesture. He places his outstretched index fingers against his forehead, which is meant to say something like: We're going to have a blast today, friends, aren't we?

When he duckwalks across the stage, as he did this evening, with his white hair flying in the wind and his mouth hanging open, he does it for two reasons: because, as a boisterous youth, he invented this dance variation for himself while playing the guitar in public and found it vaguely satisfying. And because he knows that you have to give the audience what the audience wants. The audience wants clean, well-played AC/DC thumping rock, as unadorned as possible, with the usual voluminous guitar riffs. And that's exactly what they get. The kind of music that gives your brain a well-deserved break and where you can easily sing along to the chorus even with seven or eight beers in your head.

Angus Young's partner, singer Brian Johnson, with whom he has been working for almost exactly 45 years, acts as his sidekick. He's a wonderfully cuddly figure. He has something folksy about him in the best sense of the word, with his notorious flat cap and sleeveless doublet, which he wears to advertise a brand of motorcycle. One thing is certain: no one else in the world can clench their fists and give the thumbs-up gesture as well as he can, while smiling so winningly and confidently. And he has a work ethic comparable to his longtime colleague: diligence, discipline, reliability. Giving everything for the rock 'n' roll circus.

The action is shown on large screens to the left and right of the stage, dominated by Young and Johnson, the two remaining traditional members and energetic stage animals. The performance always plays out the same way, which is also its undisputed quality. It's the AC/DC revue that fans already know, and it always has the same individual stations: During "Hell's Bells," the large plastic bell is lowered above the stage. During "Whole Lotta Rosie," a caricature of an extremely voluptuous female beauty is shown on the large screens flanking the stage (previously, a gigantic rubber doll was inflated above the stage). During "Let there be rock," the inevitable confetti cannon is fired during Angus's guitar solo, which lasts at least ten minutes. During "For those about to rock," plastic cannons are deployed to the right and left of the stage and on the stage, firing precisely when the chorus sounds and emitting clouds of smoke.

AC/DC has successfully turned itself into a brand over the course of 50 years. And it satisfies a deep-seated human desire, just as cold beer and deep-fried salted potato sticks do. On this evening, the band offers a dynamic blues-rock stripped down to the simplest elements, whose astonishing simplicity also constitutes its enormous appeal. Never change a winning system. The same is true of the school uniform worn by Angus Young, which is no longer a real school uniform like it was in 1974, when the then 19-year-old AC/DC guitarist first tried it on in search of an image that suited him, but rather a stage costume specially made for today's rock star, whose cut and design are intended to resemble a school uniform. An artificial, fantasy school uniform, in other words. Angus Young once said: "That's my thing. Why do people come to our concerts? It's the school uniform. It works!« Just like the three stripes on the products of a sporting goods company or the red Santa Claus that a soft drink company has been using for decades.

Speaking of "functioning": AC/DC seems to function like one of those traditional, medium-sized companies where the bosses are personally responsible for quality control, are on first-name terms with the workers, where they pat each other on the back and carefully ensure that some idiotic marketing idiots don't mess with the company's proven course, that everything stays the same, and the formula for success remains unchanged: two or three distinctive guitar riffs, school uniform, devil's horns. One-two, boom-zack, one-two, boom-zack. That's the rhythm you have to go with as an AC/DC fan. It mustn't be changed, under any circumstances. Where would we be otherwise.