I'm sick to death of people saying we've made 11 albums that

Angus Young once said, with a spark of mischief and defiance: “I’m sick to death of people saying we’ve made 11 albums that sound exactly the same. In fact, we’ve made 12 albums that sound exactly the same.” These words, spoken by the legendary guitarist of AC/DC, carry the humor of a rebel and the conviction of a craftsman. Beneath the laughter lies a deeper truth — a declaration of artistic integrity and unbending purpose. Young, ever the embodiment of rock’s raw spirit, reminds us that authenticity is not measured by novelty, but by consistency of soul. In a world that worships change for its own sake, he stands as a monument to the power of remaining true to one’s essence.

The origin of this quote springs from decades of criticism aimed at AC/DC’s music. Journalists and critics often accused the band of repetition — of writing the same riffs, the same rhythms, the same fire, album after album. But Angus, with his signature grin, transformed the insult into a statement of pride. He understood what many did not: that greatness does not always lie in reinvention, but in refinement. The band’s sound — thunderous, honest, unpretentious — was not a formula, but a creed. Each album was not a copy of the last, but a reaffirmation of their musical truth: that rock, in its purest form, needs no disguise.

Through his words, Angus speaks a wisdom as old as art itself. The ancients knew that mastery lies in devotion, not in distraction. The potter who shapes clay a thousand times learns not monotony, but perfection. The philosopher who contemplates a single truth all his life ascends deeper into understanding. So too did Angus and his band dedicate themselves to their craft — not to please the fleeting tastes of the crowd, but to serve the eternal spirit of rock. Their sound was their temple, their rhythm their prayer. To accuse them of sameness is to misunderstand the beauty of constancy. True art is not born of endless change, but of steadfast purpose.

Consider the life of Ludwig van Beethoven, who, though he composed symphonies of immense diversity, built all his genius upon a foundation of simple motifs — the repetition of a rhythm, the return of a melody. His Fifth Symphony, with its immortal four-note opening, is a work of variation upon one theme. Yet from that theme springs thunder and transcendence. So too with AC/DC: from three chords, they carved an empire of sound. Like blacksmiths, they hammered the same metal until it shone. Angus’s quip, then, is not a dismissal of creativity, but a celebration of dedication — a reminder that repetition, when guided by passion, becomes art.

There is also in his words a rebellious joy, the laughter of one who refuses to bow to the expectations of the world. For too often society demands change, not out of wisdom, but out of boredom. It urges the artist to abandon what is true for what is trendy, to chase novelty instead of meaning. But Angus teaches us to stand firm. He mocks the critics, not out of arrogance, but out of freedom — the freedom of one who knows who he is. When he says they’ve made twelve albums that sound the same, he is proclaiming that their essence cannot be corrupted. AC/DC did not evolve to survive; they endured because they stayed pure. Their sound is a banner of identity — an unbroken roar against conformity and compromise.

In this sense, Angus Young’s words echo the spirit of every craftsman, every warrior, every soul who has chosen the hard road of authenticity. To live by principle is to be misunderstood. The farmer who plants the same field year after year may seem repetitive to the idle, but he feeds the world. The monk who chants the same prayer each dawn may seem monotonous to the restless, but he cultivates inner peace. So too with the artist who remains faithful to his voice — he preserves something eternal. Angus reminds us that integrity is not stagnation; it is endurance, and endurance is the mark of mastery.

Let this, then, be the lesson: Do not fear being consistent in what you love. In a world obsessed with reinvention, dare to be steadfast. Perfect your craft, even if others call it repetitive. Let your purpose be your song, played again and again until it becomes immortal. Whether your art is music, labor, kindness, or truth, stay faithful to it. The critic will demand novelty; the wise will recognize depth. And when the noise of the world grows loud, remember Angus Young’s laughter — the laughter of one who knows that to remain true is the greatest rebellion of all.

For in the end, his words are not about music alone, but about the spirit of creation itself. “We’ve made 12 albums that sound exactly the same,” he says — and behind the humor stands the ancient warrior’s creed: to know oneself, to stand one’s ground, and to keep playing the song of one’s soul, louder and truer with every passing year.