CHEAP TRICK

It all started innocently enough. There I was, sitting in the office of an ordinarily credible marketing honcho at Epic Records discussing Marc Bolan and the situation in Uganda when all of sudden he reaches under his desk and whips out an album called Cheap Trick. "Listen," he says, exuding real conviction^ "these guys are gonna be enormous. They're really great." Uh hunh. Usually, I'd be more inclined to take the word of a sleazy used car salesman, but the cover he'd thrown on my lap looked a bit intriguing, and the cut he played wasn't bad.

Later that day, after contemplating whether Side A should be played before or after Side 1,1 gave the album a coupje of proper listenings, the liner notes a serious glance, and the artwork a quick perusal before deciding that Cheap Trick were no dopes. They have done a real neat (especially for a debut) bit of plastic work for themselves. This revelation sparked some not-so-professional curiosity, and I set about finding out whatever I could about this paradoxical set of humans. Fortunately, a few urbane New Yorkers had been following Cheap Trick for a short while, and they were able to provide some assorted fax'n'rumors to stoke the imagination and keep the promo mills busy. Here's how it pieced together:

The four Cheap Tricksters hail from diverse places, the epicenter of which seems to be Chicago. They met and forrped the group in France, but brought it back to the States in 1974 in order to become stars. Upon their return, they began gigging six nights a week, preparing for their shot at the big time. Following a scenario not unlike the one that brought home Roxy Music's British bacon, Cheap Trick systematically lined up/signed up their management, agent, image, logo, and record producer before ever approaching a label about a recording contract. While that may seem like a lot of bother, it was a shrewd move as it allowed the group to offer itself lock stock and bananas, with no chance of a record exec setting things up for them against their wishes. On the other hand, in exchange for a loss of control, Epic got a good deal—a band that required neither .guidance nor rehearsal. The recording of Cheap Trick's LP was quick and easy, and that translates into cheap in any studio. The group came prepared with over twenty songs which were recorded in less than a month, saving time by not using extensive overdubs and multi-tracks. Some songs were recorded live in the studio at one clip, and two required only one take. One take! With that kind of velocity, a double LP could be finished in the time normally spent on a 45. Could this be the start of rock 'n' roll frugality?

Digging into this intriguing band, one comes Up with four distinct individuals. The lineup runs like this: Rick Nielsen, guitarist/songwriter, comes off as the semi-sane leader and spokesman. Equipped with perennial bowtie, crewcut, baseball cap, apd smart-aleck facial expression, he resembles a cross between Archie Andrews and Huntz Hall. Owner of countless guitars, a dozen of which appear on stage for every set, he is a facile musician and consummate lunatic. Bun E. Carlos, accountantturned-drummer, collects records and chain-smokes while playing. Although his appearance suggests life insurance more than rock music, he has been drumming for an indeterminate number of years. Cheap Trick's star vocalist is Robin Zander, the baby of the bunch at 22 (Bun looks 23 but could be 35), just might be America's answer to Rodney The Tartan. He has the voice and looks to become a real teen idol. Bassist Tom Petersson is another pretty boy, but one who wields a very malicious axe with as much violence as Marc Animal of the Dictators. Visually, they look as related as any police lineup, but they really do sound good together; a bit like Aerosmith gone silly and melodic, but that's hardly a fair comparison, even if Jack "walk this way" Douglas did produce the record.

After a bunch of listenings, a theory began rising from my turntable, prompted by the numerous references, both lyrical and musical, to the erstwhile Beatles. A lot of American groups invoke the Fab Four, but there was something different about Cheap Trick's approach—a sinister streak that seems to be more anti-Beatles than anything. Call it a hunch, it remained untested until the group breezed into town one Saturday for a quick gig and some press meets. Over a fancy lunch at a fancy hotel, I gingerly advanced my hypothesis to Rick Nielsen in an exchange that left me more confused than when I began.

Writer: It strikes me that someone in the group hates the Beatles. The album seems to be nasty to the Beatles without anyone realizing it.

Musician: You're the smartest person we've ever spoken to.

Writer: You don't like the Beatles then?

Musician: I'm not saying that.

Other musician: I was into music before the Beatles, and I thought a lot of what they did was a rehash. I was more into the Stones; the more aggressive stuff.

More ambiguity. The remaining link was the set, later that day. I adopted a wait-see attitude and headed to the gig. A few hours later, I found myself in a dimly lit cavern, recently converted from a Nazi beer hall to a rock club (hmmm...) for this debut concert. Another abominable pisshole; the acoustics made Cheap Trick sound muddy and vague, but that didn't dampen the group's enthusiasm as they hammed, prowled, and rocked around a small stage with a casual air of self-confidence that made the energy level of the music that much more intense. Nielsen, plowing through seven guitars and several dozen picks, is one of the funniest guitarists alive. He leaps, smirks, dances, kisses his guitar, talks to photographers at his feet, and generally hams it up while diffidently throwing off top-notch guitar licks. Robin provides more orthodox counterpoint as he poses in various rock star attitudes, controlling the audience through the sheer power of his voice which projects cleanly through even the loudest instrumental parts. Petersson prances about, chatting with Nielsen while hacking at his bass with enough force to break strings if not sweat. Bun E., the group's mainstay, thumps away, looking for all the world like one of those china dogs that people have bobbing away in the backs of cars as his head bounces in time with his bass pedal. A very kinetic show—one which proves their claim of not recording anything that can't do as well on stage.

Well, still no conclusions about their motives. However, it's certainly satisfying to have found out about Cheap Trick. Who knows—maybe they are the Beatles. Or Charles Manson. Or Idi Amin. That's Dada for you.