AC/DC Detonated Raw Rock Fury with an Explosively Intense “T.N.T.” at Prague 2025

The late-June sun still clung to the horizon when the first thunder of anticipation rolled across Prague’s Letňany Airport on June 26 2025. Tens of thousands of black-clad fans were already jammed shoulder to shoulder on the sprawling grass airfield, swapping tales of past tours while security checkpoints and beer tents strained under the flood. Summer heat mixed with the metallic scent of stage pyrotechnics, promising an unforgettable night as AC/DC’s towering arrays of Marshall stacks glimmered like monoliths against a peach-colored sky.

By the time dusk settled fully, the band had already bulldozed through a fistful of classics—“Back in Black,” “If You Want Blood,” and the ever-raucous “High Voltage.” Each number felt like a tightening coil, building toward something explosive. When a sudden darkness fell and a single spotlight pierced the airfield, savvy veterans nudged newcomers knowingly: every tour seems to have its detonation point, and tonight that fuse was about to be lit by “T.N.T.”

A low rumble of bass shook the crowd seconds before Angus Young strode into view, schoolboy cap askew, duck-walking across a ramp that sliced the audience in half like a runway. His guitar spat the iconic, three-chord motif that has heralded rebellion since 1975, and the opening lyric—“See me ride out on a horse”—left Brian Johnson’s lips like gravel flung from a speeding truck. The field erupted in a single, primal roar that rattled eardrums as surely as any explosives.

As the chorus approached, 80,000 fists punched skyward in unison, and the familiar “Oi! Oi! Oi!” chant thundered back at the stage with football-stadium intensity. A bank of flame cannons ignited across the risers, each burst choreographed to the kick drum, sending waves of heat across the front rows. Overhead, rigged spotlights traced semicircles of red and white, bathing the inflatable dynamite sticks flanking the drum kit in a hellish glow.

Johnson, cap clamped tightly into place, prowled the catwalk like a prizefighter. It’s easy to forget that a decade earlier hearing-loss scares had nearly ended his touring life; in Prague his rasp cut through the mix with ferocity, as though daring time itself to mute him again. He leaned into every “T.N.T.!” like a man exorcising demons, the veins in his neck straining under the locomotive force of his delivery.

Angus seemed immune to gravity, spinning on one foot before dropping to his knees for an extended solo that quoted bits of the original studio take yet wandered into fresh, blues-drenched lanes. The SG’s neck glowed under strobe lights as sweat flung from his wrists, and die-hard fans swore the feedback break near the song’s midpoint echoed those legendary 1976 Melbourne shows that cemented the young guitarist’s legend.

Holding the locomotive groove together was the rejuvenated rhythm section. Nephew Stevie Young chugged on rhythm guitar with locomotive precision, locking seamlessly with Chris Chaney’s punchy bass lines. Behind them, Matt Laug treated each snare crack like a detonation cap, driving the beat forward with military precision. Their synergy granted Angus the freedom to stretch and tease, each note landing on a bedrock so solid it felt earthquake-proof.

Scanning the sea of faces revealed a cross-section of AC/DC’s multigenerational reach. Gray-bearded rock lifers stood shoulder-to-shoulder with teenagers sporting freshly bought tour tees, their voices blending in one colossal choir. Many wore homemade signs honoring late vocalist Bon Scott—the man who first recorded “T.N.T.”—a reminder that, fifty years on, the song remains a living bridge between eras of the band’s storied timeline.

Social media lit up in real time. Drones buzzing above the crowd captured sweeping aerial shots of flame columns synchronized to Angus’s fretwork, and the hashtag #TNTinPrague trended worldwide before the final chord rang out. Livestream snippets spread across platforms within minutes, prompting fans unable to make the European leg to marvel at the spectacle from oceans away, vowing to catch the next tour stop.

The power of “T.N.T.” lies partly in its simplicity—three snarling chords and an anthem-ready chorus—yet its reputation has grown with every tour. Old-school devotees recalled how the tune once opened shows in the late Seventies; that it now lands mid-set underscores how crowded the band’s arsenal of hits has become. Still, whenever those chords strike, the energy spikes like a defibrillator jolt no matter the song order.

Tonight’s rendition also carried a Czech-flavored resonance. Prague embraces hard rock with uncommon fervor, having hosted monumental runs from Metallica, Iron Maiden, and Guns N’ Roses over the years. Locals still reminisce about AC/DC’s storm-threatened 2016 show as though it were a badge of honor, and the 2025 edition felt like delayed payback—a storm of sound rather than weather, unleashed in perfect summer conditions.

Even the staging tipped its hat to the venue’s aviation roots. Lighting trusses were rigged to resemble runway markers, and the massive PA wings arced outward like aircraft hangars. As “T.N.T.” reached its final refrain, two towering columns of sparks erupted, mimicking the launch of rockets from a runway, further blurring the line between concert and sonic takeoff.

When the last “Watch me explode!” roared across Letňany, the band paused to soak in the hysteria. Angus raised his guitar overhead like a trophy, Brian tipped his cap, and the rhythm section exchanged grins that spoke of battles well won. For a heartbeat everything froze—crowd noise, stage lights, smoke cannons—before the inevitable rush into the next classic, but that frozen instant felt as monumental as any encore.

Backstage chatter later revealed the performance would be archived for a future live-tour documentary, the production crew citing Prague’s perfect acoustics and fan energy as lightning in a bottle. Such behind-the-scenes news only fueled post-show celebrations, as fans spilled onto late-night trams chanting the chorus while street vendors did brisk trade in bootleg shirts immortalizing the night.

Long after final buses departed and cleanup crews began dismantling the skeletal towers of steel and light, echoes of the three-chord juggernaut lingered in the humid air. For Prague’s faithful, “T.N.T.” had detonated more than pyrotechnics: it had blown open floodgates of nostalgia, adrenaline, and communal joy, reaffirming why AC/DC’s timeless formula still reduces massive crowds to gleeful, chanting tribes.

And so the Power Up tour barreled on toward its next European city with the certainty of a freight train, but Prague’s explosive rendition of “T.N.T.” instantly earned a spot on every fan’s highlight reel. In a world where rock legacies sometimes fade, AC/DC proved once more that some riffs, once lit, burn forever—and on this particular summer night, they burned hotter than dynamite.