Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (1976)


  
 
 1. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
 2. Love at First Feel
 3. Big Balls
 4. Rocker
 5. Problem Child
 6. There's Gonna Be Some Rockin'
 7. Ain't No Fun 
   (Waiting Round to Be a Millionaire)
 8. Ride On
 9. Squealer

 

If High Voltage gave us the opening act of AC/DC’s rough-hewn rock theater, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap was the moment the curtain rose on their more mischievous, snarling heart. This was the band shaking off the last hints of pretense and heading straight for the jugular. It may not be their masterpiece—but it is, unmistakably, their manifesto.

The title track alone justifies the album's existence, a blistering, low-slung piece of criminally catchy riffage that lays down AC/DC’s aesthetic in five words and three chords. ‘Dirty deeds done dirt cheap’—it’s as if Bon Scott’s leer could be heard through the amplifiers, the smirk curling at the edges of every line. It remains one of the defining moments in the band’s catalogue: crude, funny, and infectiously rebellious.

From there, however, the path becomes more crooked. Love at First Feel smacks of boardroom intervention—its polished, almost sanitized structure betrays a worrying flirtation with the mainstream. It’s slick, yes—but lacks the grit and venom that AC/DC wear best.

Big Balls is equal parts schoolboy joke and biting satire, but ends up treading too far into novelty. One can almost hear the ghost of Chuck Berry groaning. Bon Scott plays the aristocratic degenerate to the hilt, but the joke wears thin fast. Ironically, it’s the riff—a lean, muscular thing—that deserves better than the lyrical pantomime wrapped around it.

Rocker and There’s Gonna Be Some Rockin sit more comfortably in the band’s canon, raw and unfiltered. The former channels a breathless, rockabilly fury, while the latter is a barroom anthem in search of a chorus. Neither is transcendent, but both show a band still comfortable in their denim-and-dust roots.

Problem Child should be brilliant. The riff snarls, the attitude is right—but the song collapses under its own weight. What begins as a punchy statement of intent soon becomes an endurance test. At over five minutes, it drags when it should sprint. You can almost see the band looking at the clock and stretching the tape just to meet a runtime.

But all is not lost. Ain’t No Fun (Waiting Round to Be a Millionaire) is the hidden gem—scruffy, cynical, and gloriously self-aware. Buried beneath the album’s louder offenses, it is the album’s slyest smile and best lyrical moment. It overstays its welcome, sure—but with far more charm than Problem Child.

Then there’s Ride On, a genuine oddity in the AC/DC universe. A slow, almost bluesy dirge, it’s as close to vulnerability as Bon Scott ever dared go on tape. No wink, no sneer—just a heartbreak croon delivered over a haunting, molasses-thick guitar line. For once, the band trades volume for depth, and they pull it off with surprising grace. It’s not a ballad, and it’s not soft—but it’s human, and all the more powerful for it.

As a whole, Dirty Deeds doesn’t aim to be perfect—it aims to be loud, rude, and unrelenting. And in that, it succeeds more often than it fails. There are missteps, yes, but never compromises. The album may not have landed in America until years later—but that delay only made it feel more subversive. It’s the sound of a band still figuring out just how much mayhem they can cause—and relishing every second of it.

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