Simon RushworthAirbourne — Airbourne (Spinefarm Records)
It must have sounded like some kind of hurricane at the end of the Great Ocean Road, the day Airbourne ran through their first rehearsal.
Blasting out of Victoria’s Warrnambool in the early noughties, the wide-eyed O’Keeffe brothers and their rabid buddies didn’t have a plan.
But Airbourne’s rough and ready recruits always had a vision.
And the band’s bombastic, unapologetic, retro-fuelled banger of a self-titled album is that vision realised. Gloriously.
Turns out a lot — and we mean a lot — of time and money went into Airbourne.
The music was recorded to tape.
The approach was traditional, painstaking and in thrall to the legends who shaped a modern-day rock and roll masterpiece.
This was no cash-grabbing rush job replete with cut corners and quality control relinquished.
Quite the opposite.
Hell, it’s fast approaching SEVEN FUCKING YEARS since Boneshaker dropped.
Just let that sink in.
And there were times when the Airbourne faithful worried their favourite band were gone for good. The fear felt real.
But the panic was over when, in the spring of 2025, the band emerged, briefly, to perform a string of typically supercharged UK shows.
Bursting out of the studio and bursting with pride, the O’Keefe brothers and band mates Justin Street and Brett Tyrrell performed like animals uncaged.
The glowing Rushonrock review pleaded for more of the same — and new music.
Another 17 months down the line and our prayers have been answered.
Airbourne represents take off for a band reborn.
Airbourne soars… with a little help from their friends
How do you add that necessary coat of polished retro-sheen to your raw and raging trademark rock and roll?
Call the experts.
Drafting in Mutt Lange and Bryan Adams as occasional co-writers is a bloody genius move when you’re in the midst of making, in Airbourne’s own words, ‘an iconic record — an album that is gargantuan’.
Here She Comes — one of two collaborative triumphs with the storied duo — boasts all the hallmarks of a chart-busting, arena-ready, 80s-styled classic.
Mutt (it must have been him!) even manages to shoehorn in a cheeky ‘High N Dry’ reference to a song that echoes the beginning of Def Leppard’s transition from NWOBHM flag bearers to hair metal heroes.
Elsewhere it’s clear that this is a record fashioned with live shows in mind.
Kid In A Candy Store is ripe for crowd participation with the mid-song break an open invitation for Joel to crack open a few cans (with his forehead, of course) or scale the nearest piece of scaffolding.
And it’s comforting to imagine Airbourne closing every future show with the heartfelt tribute Send Me To Rock ‘N’ Roll Heaven.
Fingers crossed it will be a good while yet before the O’Keeffes and co. join Lemmy, Bon, Ozzy et al in that supergroup in the sky.
But Airbourne is a legacy-cementing record that puts the heirs to AC/DC’s throne at the centre of the conversation around the very best of the rest.
