It was the sweltering Sydney summer of '79 and AC/DC was the most potent new rock band on earth. Their latest album, Highway to Hell, had caused a storm, but the earth was already shaking for Back in Black, which would tear the rock music world apart the following year.

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Back then, I was a teenager with ambitions to rule the rock world and I'd fallen in love with AC/DC's music. I decided to exploit my contacts in the recording business and meet the lads. When it finally happened, a hole was burned into my brain.

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J.Albert & Son (Albert Productions) was the recording and management hub for many of Australia's great music artists between the 60s and the 80s. The powerhouse song writing duo Vanda and Young were based in the company's King Street HQ, as were acts like the Easybeats, John Paul Young and Stevie Wright. Alberts may as well have been Countdown's Sydney office.

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I think it was Albert's general manager, Fifa, who ushered me into a tobacco fogged green room on the fourth floor. With the band indefinitely stranded due to a flight cancellation, I could hang around as long as I wanted.

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Three tacky, yellow couches surrounded a small, wooden coffee table. Guitarist Malcolm Young's legs straddled the table while his brother Angus's legs stretched under it (they were short legs, so they didn't stretch that far). He was wearing jeans, which looked, well, just weird and wrong. No-one had ever seen him in anything other than his signature schoolboy shorts.

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“Pull up a pew” said Angus, but there was so much stuff on the couches that I just crashed on the floor next to the coffee table. Both brothers had acoustic guitars and to my disbelief – they were playing jazz. I recognised the tune as "Watermelon Man" By Herbie Mann (I knew it from a jazz compilation I'd just bought). So instead of being holed up in a whisky sodden rock star backroom, I was transported to a Mississippi river bar in New Orleans.

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They played this song for a while with intricate chords you'd never normally hear from the band. The experience blew my mind so I seized a couple of pencils and started drumming on the table. Then I grabbed an acoustic and played it like a bass, with Angus Young's naked foot tapping time on my kneecap.

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I was jamming with AC/DC – top that!

After joyfully playing to me a cassette tape of Malcolm having fun with a groupie, Angus played for me an early version of "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution", which was to feature on the Back in Black album. But when he got to "Never Gonna Die" in the chorus he played the augmented chord that Hendrix made famous in Foxy Lady and Purple Haze.

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"Like it?" asked Angus, then turning to the others, "these wankers don't".

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It's true. The song almost featured the Hendrix chord but Angus was outvoted by the majority who thought it clashed too much with the rest of the music. Angus was pissed off, to say the least.

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Among the feet and legs on the coffee table was a full tea set, including flowered pot and delicate china cups. Indeed if you check out the album notes for Back in Black, you'll see the lads make it a contract condition to be supplied with tea on tap.

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Bon Scott had made a brief appearance earlier, brandishing a hip flask and yelling "F****ing tea junkies" at us. Word came that the lads needed to get to the airport. "Come back after the tour," pleaded Angus. "Then we'll play some real music for you!" Bon Scott handed me his hip flask which I keep to this day. I even got a snifter of whisky from it, but true to form, he had drained just about every last drop. Now he's dead and I'm in prison – classic AC/DC.