Tough panache task, considering their sophomore effort being T.N.T. It was dynamite. King-screamer Bon Scott still in tow before his death at the end of the decade, they went balls-to-the-wall here, literally, circus-rawking testical double-entendre, “Big Balls,” to the probing “magic touch” on “Squealer.”
But the title track is the mantle piece, that would drive sales of the record past $6 million and counting. A poster child for devil-horning, the panting back-up vocals rise up around a tale of a dude who will carry out some “dirty deeds,” laced with a real phone number that doubles as the measurements of a “perfect woman.” Enter Scott and his comic book bad dude instigations, and you have yourself a singalong.
It went on to become one of the world’s best mondegreens, people yelping the chorus as “Thirty thieves and the thunder chief:”
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
Done dirt cheap
Done dirt cheap, yeah