It was 1982, and I found myself at the RDS in Dublin for what would become an iconic rock concert — though I wasn’t entirely aware of it then. My primary reason for being there wasn’t as much for the legendary AC/DC as it was to look after my younger brother and his friend, who was just 14 then. Both were AC/DC mad and had travelled up from Limerick by train for the event. I was the responsible older sibling, ensuring they stayed safe in what was a rough enough city at the time.

Dublin in the early 80s had its fair share of challenges, not least of which was the heroin addiction problem. The city could feel raw and edgy, especially at night. But none of that mattered to my brother and his friend — they were excited to see their favourite band live for the first time.

As we took our places in the packed crowd, the anticipation in the air was palpable. AC/DC was known for their electrifying performances, and the night’s atmosphere didn’t disappoint. The band burst onto the stage, and from the first chord, the energy was relentless. The sound was loud, raw, and powerful, precisely what AC/DC fans crave. Angus Young’s signature schoolboy outfit and hyperactive energy had the audience in a frenzy.

But the most unforgettable moment came during the finale. As the band launched into their anthem, “For Those About to Rock (We Salute You),” the entire venue was on its feet, shouting along with the lyrics. And then came the moment everyone was waiting for — the cannons. I remember the ground shaking as the first blast went off in perfect sync with the chorus. It was a sight and sound — pure, unadulterated rock spectacle. Those cannons became a hallmark of AC/DC’s live shows, but witnessing them for the first time, especially as the teenage excitement around me peaked, was indeed something special.

While my brother and his friend were in seventh heaven, I was thinking of the shots I had taken. I was there with my camera, hoping to capture the energy and spirit of the night. I knew I had some good frames, but I wouldn’t know until I returned to Trinity College to process the film as time allowed over the next few days. At that time, I was involved with the Dublin University Photographic Association, which had a darkroom in No. 4, one of the historic buildings in Trinity’s famous Front Square. I can still recall the nervous excitement as I spooled the film onto the developing reel, carefully working through the chemical development process in the dim red light of the room.

The following evening, I printed the dried negatives, and the first images appeared in the developing tray; I knew I had something special. The grainy black-and-white photos captured the raw energy of AC/DC’s performance—the sweat glistening under the stage lights, the concentration etched on the band’s faces, and the moment when the cannons went off. It felt like I had bottled the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll in those frames.

Looking back now, I realise how fortunate I was to have been there, not just for my brother and his friend, but to witness and document such an iconic event in rock history. Dublin may have been a tough place back then, but for a few hours that night, the RDS was pure magic, and AC/DC were the undisputed masters of the stage.

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