Angus Young Drops to His Knees in Blazing “High Voltage” Solo During AC/DC’s Unforgettable Tampa 2025 Show

AC/DC’s return to Tampa on May 16, 2025, was more than just another stop on their “Power Up” tour—it was a thunderous homecoming nearly two decades in the making. Raymond James Stadium pulsed with anticipation as over 50,000 die-hard fans packed the venue, eager to feel the raw energy only AC/DC can deliver.

The night roared to life with an opening set from The Pretty Reckless. Taylor Momsen dominated the stage with a gritty performance that felt both reverent and rebellious. Her set was filled with fiery renditions of hits like “Heaven Knows” and “Make Me Wanna Die,” warming the crowd up with the kind of punch-you-in-the-face rock attitude that AC/DC fans live for.

As twilight gave way to night, the stadium lights dimmed, and the unmistakable riff of “If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)” echoed through the air. Angus Young, dressed in his signature schoolboy uniform, burst onto the stage with electric fury, shredding with the same wild energy that made him a legend decades ago.

The setlist spanned generations, from early bangers like “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” to arena staples such as “Back in Black” and “Thunderstruck.” Each song was met with roars from the crowd, but when the intro to “High Voltage” hit, the atmosphere changed—charged with a nostalgic buzz that sent a wave of adrenaline through the stands.

“High Voltage” wasn’t just performed; it was experienced. The crowd joined in a thunderous chant, echoing Johnson’s every lyric, while Angus stretched the song with bluesy solos and teasing pauses that played with the audience like a live wire. It was a reminder of how a simple riff can become a communion between band and fan.

Brian Johnson, ever the rock warrior, belted each line with a voice that defied the passage of time. Having previously battled severe hearing loss, his return to the spotlight felt like a miracle—and he made it count. His signature growl filled every corner of the stadium, igniting each verse with gritty conviction.

The band’s chemistry was flawless. Cliff Williams’ bass held down the groove, Stevie Young’s rhythm guitar kept the engine running, and Phil Rudd’s drumming hit like a sledgehammer—tight, steady, and primal. It wasn’t just nostalgia; it was a masterclass in live rock performance.

Visually, the show was a spectacle. Massive pyrotechnics shot skyward, synchronized with the beat. Cannons boomed during “For Those About to Rock,” and red-lit devil horns worn by thousands of fans turned the stadium into a sea of glowing rebellion. It was loud, chaotic, and beautiful.

Midway through the show, Angus took a victory lap through the crowd during “Let There Be Rock,” tearing through a ten-minute solo while perched on a rising platform. It was a scene straight from the golden age of rock and roll—only this time, it was happening in 2025, and it felt just as vital.

Every transition between songs felt seamless, with no banter needed. The music did all the talking. By the time they roared into “Highway to Hell,” the crowd was already hoarse from singing, but no one cared. This was the kind of exhaustion fans wait a lifetime to feel.

The encore ignited with “T.N.T.,” complete with explosions and a synchronized sea of fists punching the air. Johnson snarled, “Oi! Oi! Oi!” and the crowd answered like a battalion of rebels. It wasn’t just a concert—it was warfare on boredom, and every note was a battle cry.

They closed with “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You),” with cannon blasts that rattled bones and hearts alike. The salute wasn’t just theatrical—it was sincere. A thank you to fans who’ve stood by them for decades, and a message that rock isn’t going anywhere.

The band took a final bow, waving to a crowd that wasn’t ready to leave. You could feel it in the air: everyone wanted just one more song, one more solo, one more taste of that lightning.

For newcomers, it was a baptism into real rock. For longtime fans, it was a reminder that AC/DC still walks the earth as gods of power chords and primal rhythm. Every riff, every scream, every explosion proved that age may march on, but some things—like Angus Young’s duckwalk—never lose their magic.

In a world increasingly dominated by polished pop and digital effects, AC/DC’s Tampa show stood like a monument to unfiltered sound, sweat-soaked guitars, and the holy gospel of hard rock. It wasn’t just a good concert—it was a necessary one. A reminder that sometimes, all you need is four chords and a stack of amps to feel alive.