An enduring myth about rock is that the best artists crash before they settle into a professional rut. Jazz, blues, and folk musicians are allowed the dignity of improving with age, while rock 'n' rollers descend into redundancy.
Though careerism stifles the rebelliousness that fuels rock 'n' roll, the instinct to survive economically has always been stronger than any artistic impulse. Cheap Trick embodies this paradox probably better than any other major American rock band. Like hundreds of other Midwestern groups in the mid-'70s, the group made a living on the club circuit, playing three or four sets a night. What distinguished them from other boogie laborers was their original material -- nothing creatively challenging or incisively personal, but distinctively enough theirs to earn them a recording contract and a wider audience.
As the name implied, Cheap Trick was a goof on all the cliches that grew out of '70s arena rock. Visually, guitarist Rick Nielsen's dorky exuberance and drummer Bun E. Carlos' avuncular impassivity contrasted smartly with the rock-star cool of bassist Tom Petersson and vocalist Robin Zander. The songs were loud, catchy, dumb, derivative. They contradicted the flavor of the moment -- punk and new wave -- while somehow being part and parcel of it because of the implied irony. But all the components were based on professional calculation, not artistic expression.