We Make Rock and Roll

Listen to this post: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Yo u Tube

When a journalist pointed out that AC/DC had “made the same record over and over 10 times,” Angus Young fired back, “That’s a dirty lie! We’ve made the same record 11 times!”

A friend of mine tells a version of that story, maybe a better version, and it’s one of my favorites. The truth is, Angus told different versions of it too, for each subsequent release. He was consistent in more ways than one.

Angus Young: We make Rock and Roll — Angus Young

All those versions of the story capture the same spirit: owning your identity instead of apologizing for it. And it highlights something our culture gets wrong about success and creativity.

We’re living through an era obsessed with reinvention. Novelty! There is something alluring about growth, about the new, about change for the sake of change. But this relentless pressure to transform overlooks a powerful path forward. Figure out what you’re good at, identify what you enjoy, and hang on for dear life.

Think about the artists we celebrate for their creative evolution. Bob Dylan comes to mind, but when he went electric, folk purists booed him off stage at Newport. The Times they were a-changin’, and Dylan was changin’ too.

But Dylan was a rolling stone, restless, never happy with an album or a show. He said that his friend Jerry Garcia heard where the music should go better than he did. “The Dead did a lot of my songs,” Dylan said. “And we’d just take the whole arrangement. Jerry Garcia could hear the song that was buried there.”

Dylan was searching for his sound the whole way through. And he kept right on searching, through different collaborators and backing bands, never really finding it.

AC/DC identified their sound clearly, early. Lucky bastards. And when Garcia heard If You Want Blood, he didn’t say a damn thing.

“It’s The Same Band”

AC/DC took a different approach entirely. When people criticized their consistency, Malcolm Young (Angus’ brother and the bands long time rhythm guitarist) used to say, “Yeah. It’s the same band!”

Sgt. Pepper was not coming out of these sessions.

More important than keeping up with the musical Joneses, they wanted to have a distinct sound. As you heard it, they wanted you to know it was AC/DC. Like The Rolling Stones—a band that is instantly recognizable because, well, Mick sounds like Mick. They perfected their approach rather than chasing something new.

AC/DC wanted to have an identity. Catchy, turn it up all the way, Rock and Roll. But also, that new album was going to have 10, maybe 11 tracks, and run a tight 42 minutes. Consistent!

When their legendary singer Bon Scott died in 1980, they could have used it as a reason to completely reinvent themselves. Instead, Brian Johnson studied the existing catalog and learned to fit seamlessly into what they’d already built. The result? Back in Black became one of the best-selling rock albums of all time.

Producer Rick Rubin, who’s worked with everyone from Johnny Cash to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, gets what AC/DC accomplished. He once called Highway to Hell “the most natural-sounding rock record ever.”

That word—“natural”—is the key. AC/DC’s consistency isn’t formulaic or lazy. Well, maybe it’s a little lazy. But it’s authentic. They represent something increasingly rare: commitment to an idea, executed at the highest level.

A Coke and a Smile

Jerry Seinfeld has taken a similar path in comedy. He’s still performing jokes from the 1970s, spending decades refining and perfecting, rather than abandoning material for whatever’s trendy. In a way, it’s what a lot of bands do, hit the road every summer and play the hits.

Critics say Seinfeld’s comedy hasn’t evolved, but Seinfeld sees himself as a craftsman, not a content creator. “The whole object of comedy is to be yourself,” he’s said, “and the closer you get to that, the funnier you will be.”

Maybe Seinfeld hasn’t changed, but he’s still pretty damn funny.

Malcolm Young and AC/DC were after the same thing. Something natural. They found their sound and didn’t let anyone talk them out of it.

And people will try to talk you out of it. They’re called critics, and friends, even family. But as Angus once said, “For most groups, progress means disappearing up your own arsehole!”

The critic you need to watch is the one holding the pick.

Dealing with criticism is a common scenario, one that Eddie Murphy captures in his comedy special Raw. In the bit, he’s getting lectured by Bill Cosby about his foul language. Murphy calls Richard Pryor for advice.

Pryor asks, “Do people laugh when you say what you say?”

Murphy says, “Yes.”

“Do you get paid?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Pryor says, “tell Bill to have a Coke and a smile and shut the f*ck up.”

Pryor’s advice cuts straight to what matters. If what you’re doing is natural, and it’s working, don’t let a journalist or even Bill Cosby talk you out of it.

Charlie Munger captures it clearly, “the fundamental algorithm of life—repeat what works.”

Pryor would agree.

Cutter In

The best Twitter bio I ever saw belonged to Jim Abbott: “Cutter In.” That’s it. Two words that covered a pitching career. It perfectly captures this idea of being known for one thing and one thing only.

It was aspirational of course. Abbot was known for something else; he was born without a right hand. And with just his left, he was player of the year in high school and college, won a gold medal, was drafted, skipped the minors altogether, and threw a no hitter.

Jim Abbott in a New York Yankees uniform throwing a pitch on the field. — Jim Abbott

Having that one thing that defines you can be clarifying. It can help you focus and achieve.

Abbott had the focus, but he didn’t have the best cutter, that honor goes to Mariano Rivera.

I hate the Yankees. During his playing days, I hated Rivera. Maybe I still do.

Cheering for clothing, right?

The man threw a cut fastball 90% of the time and became the greatest closer in baseball history. Batters knew exactly what was coming. No bag of tricks, no deception. It looked just like any other fastball but with a bit of late movement—breaking in towards the batter’s hands—that cut fastball missed barrels at a ridiculous rate.

652 saves, a 2.21 ERA, and the first unanimous inductee to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Here’s a fun fact: more men have (allegedly) walked on the moon (12) than scored against Rivera in the postseason (11).

Bruce Lee said, “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.”

Rivera was to be feared. And his approach will work anywhere.