After the success of The Razor’s Edge in 1990, AC/DC did something strange: they disappeared.
Oh, sure, they undertook a lengthy world tour that led to AC/DC Live, but in terms of studio work, other than one song for the film The Last Action Hero, only crickets came from Angus Young and company.
By the time they finally returned to the record store bins with Ballbreaker, their 13th studio album overall, things had changed. Gone was drummer Chris Slade; back on the stool was Phil Rudd. With apologies to Slade, his style of drumming didn’t quite fit the AC/DC mold, so hearing Rudd back behind the kit was a moment many people thought they’d never witness again.
If only the end result was worthy of such a reunion. There are some stellar tracks on this album—but, for the most part, it continues a pattern they had been following since, for some fans, Blow Up Your Video (and, in my eyes, The Razor’s Edge): packing a disc with too many half-hearted filler tracks.
There’s no faulting the two songs that bookend this album. “Hard As A Rock” is the traditional naughty schoolboy cock-rock song people had come to expect from the band (never mind the fact many in the band were already in their 40s). It hits hard with a solid groove and smooth guitar work from Angus Young (even if Rick Rubin's production tends to push the solos too far into the background).
Similarly, there’s something about the title track which closes this album that never fails to put a smile on my face. I get it, it’s as politically correct as reading Playboy in the Vatican. I don’t care; I just like this song and the solid rhythm chugged out by Malcolm Young, Cliff Williams and Rudd.
That’s two tracks... problem is, there are nine others that range from “okay” to “blah.” “Cover You In Oil,” “The Furor” and “Hail Caesar” rank among those that are passable efforts—nothing spectacular, but certainly listenable. But for each of these, there are tracks that probably deserved to be left on the cutting room floor, such as “Caught With Your Pants Down,” “Whiskey On The Rocks” and “The Honey Roll.”
Note that little has been said about vocalist Brian Johnson. At times, his vocals ebb away from the shriek he had become known for, and there is a bit more of a slick, bluesy edge to them—especially on “Hail Caesar” and “Boogie Man.” Other than these moments, one wonders how much more shredding Johnson’s vocal cords would endure.
Admittedly, part of the problem with this disc is also Rubin’s sterile production work. There is precious little energy in these tracks—even the solid efforts—due to the overall tone being dulled in the mix. Rubin has rightfully earned respect in the music industry, but his style doesn’t naturally fit every band he works with. Fortunately, his time with AC/DC was limited to this one album.
Ballbreaker was hardly a failure; it made the top 10 on the Billboard album charts. While I was not a huge fan of The Razor’s Edge, this disc was almost a continuation of the path they had set with that disc. AC/DC seemed to be happy to coast on a few strong tracks, but put precious little effort in the remainder of the album. And that, to me, is the greatest disappointment.
Ballbreaker certainly has some great moments; if only it had more than two or three. At best, this is a passable album, but far removed from their glory days.