Though, technically, Busted is Cheap Trick’s first 90’s record, it was little more than 1988’s Lap of Luxury Part II. And when the sequel didn’t match the sales of the predecessor, Epic Records dropped the band from its roster. Recognizing that the Cheap Trick still had quite a bit of good tread left on the tires, Warner Bros. came calling. Unfortunately, shortly after they signed the band, the team that brought them aboard departed, leaving the band with a label that seemed utterly clueless of what to do with them. The relationship with Warner was short-lived, resulting in only one album that, once again, found the band trying to appease major label suits. However, unlike the disastrous last two outings with Epic, Woke Up with a Monster is easily the best Cheap Trick album, end-to-end, since One on One.
Warner Bros. wisely jettisoned producer Richie Zito and brought in veteran Ted Templeman. Templeman, best known for his work with Van Halen, seemed to re-energize the band (it probably didn’t hurt that they were finally out from under Epic’s oppressive black thumb) and let them simply play. Unlike Lap of Luxury and Busted, Woke Up with a Monster doesn’t sound “assembled” or dated; rather, it sounds like a real band, perhaps because Templeman wisely stripped away the 80’s production gimmicks and kept the arrangements simple, with minimal overdubs and very few keyboards. It’s not the debut album redux by any stretch; but it is a treat to once again hear how good Cheap Trick sounds when folks get out of the damned way and just let them play. It’s also nice to hear the band play songs they wrote entirely or almost entirely themselves. The problem, though, is that they didn’t write a full album’s worth of good material.
“My Gang” kicks things off on an energetic note and signals a move toward a heavier, feistier Trick. Bun E. Carlos’s drums sound better than they have since Dream Police, with a popping snare and genuine heft on the bottom end. The backing harmonies hearken back also to the Dream Police era and the song features a rousing, sing-along chorus. Robin Zander is, of course, in fine form (Hell, when is he not?), and Rick Nielsen sounds as ferocious as he’s sounded in a decade. So why isn’t this a classic? The lyrics. As they had done too often on 1985's Standing on the Edge, the lyrics just sound like second-rate metal, devoid of the wit, sarcasm, and humor that set Cheap Trick so far apart from its peers: “so you wanna be in my gang/better think it through/yeah, if you wanna be in my gang/you have to pay your dues.” This from the band that effortlessly wrote lines like, “dear father, don’t mother me/dear mother, don’t bother me.” And to confound matters, “My Gang” is followed by the title track, which is easily one of the band’s best songs. The unnerving riff and lyrics tell the story of familial discord. It’s almost “Surrender” told from the perspective of the kid who, after mommy and daddy’s good times and weed ran out, figured out they couldn’t stand one another, leaving him to deal with the wreckage. It’s a deceptively smart morality play. Petersson’s bass is mixed particularly well and Zander delivers one of his best ever performances.
There are several other good-to-very good songs here. The classic shoe-on-the-other-foot tale of the spurned lover who gets to savor seeing his ex suffer his fate, “Tell Me Everything,” is spectacular. Period. It deserved to be a hit, but, one again, label politics got in the way and promotion was all-but ignored by Warner Bros. “You’re All I Wanna Do” is drop-dead perfect. Simple. Straightforward. Earnest. And one of the catchiest songs they band has ever penned (even if it was with the help of some outsiders, including Survivor’s Jim Peterik). Unfortunately, Rick Nielsen and Jim Peterik follow it up with the insipid “Never Run out of Love” which is a generic ballad with not a single distinguishing feature. The band’s second stab at a radio-friendly ballad, “Didn’t Know I Had It” is much better. Co-written by Nielsen and Tom Cerney (back again from his respectable contributions to Lap of Luxury, “Let Go” and “Wrong Side of Love”), the song is a sort of an epilog to the life of the gigolo from “He’s a Whore.” On the other hand, it’s not an altogether original sentiment. “Gee, you were a really great gal and I let you get away.”
“Ride the Pony” finds the band experimenting with funk and, while the result isn’t a success in that arena, it earns points for effort. “Girlfriends,” on the other hand, is an example of the band letting loose its second-rate Mötley Crüe or third-rate AC/DC. Either way, it’s 4:32 you could spend doing something better, like scooping the cat box. “Let Her Go” fares a bit better, hitting the funk nail better than “Ride the Pony,” but it’s slight melody and forgettable lyrics undo what is otherwise a pretty decent song. The closers, “Cry Baby” and “Love Me for a Minute” once again find the band trying to mimic someone else. The former sounds like an Aerosmith outtake and the latter is reminiscent of the worst parts of the Stones’ Undercover record or, worse, Mick Jagger’s horrid She’s the Boss.
In the end, Woke Up with a Monster is hard to pin down. It’s not a “return to form” and it’s not an embarrassment. If anything, it’s the sound of band recognizing its mistakes of the past decade and doing an admirable job of correcting them. A major step in the right direction, but given how far they had descended from their self-established standards, Woke Up with a Monster is, to steal a line from Jon Stewart, like being the skinniest kid at fat camp.
Warner Bros. wisely jettisoned producer Richie Zito and brought in veteran Ted Templeman. Templeman, best known for his work with Van Halen, seemed to re-energize the band (it probably didn’t hurt that they were finally out from under Epic’s oppressive black thumb) and let them simply play. Unlike Lap of Luxury and Busted, Woke Up with a Monster doesn’t sound “assembled” or dated; rather, it sounds like a real band, perhaps because Templeman wisely stripped away the 80’s production gimmicks and kept the arrangements simple, with minimal overdubs and very few keyboards. It’s not the debut album redux by any stretch; but it is a treat to once again hear how good Cheap Trick sounds when folks get out of the damned way and just let them play. It’s also nice to hear the band play songs they wrote entirely or almost entirely themselves. The problem, though, is that they didn’t write a full album’s worth of good material.
“My Gang” kicks things off on an energetic note and signals a move toward a heavier, feistier Trick. Bun E. Carlos’s drums sound better than they have since Dream Police, with a popping snare and genuine heft on the bottom end. The backing harmonies hearken back also to the Dream Police era and the song features a rousing, sing-along chorus. Robin Zander is, of course, in fine form (Hell, when is he not?), and Rick Nielsen sounds as ferocious as he’s sounded in a decade. So why isn’t this a classic? The lyrics. As they had done too often on 1985's Standing on the Edge, the lyrics just sound like second-rate metal, devoid of the wit, sarcasm, and humor that set Cheap Trick so far apart from its peers: “so you wanna be in my gang/better think it through/yeah, if you wanna be in my gang/you have to pay your dues.” This from the band that effortlessly wrote lines like, “dear father, don’t mother me/dear mother, don’t bother me.” And to confound matters, “My Gang” is followed by the title track, which is easily one of the band’s best songs. The unnerving riff and lyrics tell the story of familial discord. It’s almost “Surrender” told from the perspective of the kid who, after mommy and daddy’s good times and weed ran out, figured out they couldn’t stand one another, leaving him to deal with the wreckage. It’s a deceptively smart morality play. Petersson’s bass is mixed particularly well and Zander delivers one of his best ever performances.
There are several other good-to-very good songs here. The classic shoe-on-the-other-foot tale of the spurned lover who gets to savor seeing his ex suffer his fate, “Tell Me Everything,” is spectacular. Period. It deserved to be a hit, but, one again, label politics got in the way and promotion was all-but ignored by Warner Bros. “You’re All I Wanna Do” is drop-dead perfect. Simple. Straightforward. Earnest. And one of the catchiest songs they band has ever penned (even if it was with the help of some outsiders, including Survivor’s Jim Peterik). Unfortunately, Rick Nielsen and Jim Peterik follow it up with the insipid “Never Run out of Love” which is a generic ballad with not a single distinguishing feature. The band’s second stab at a radio-friendly ballad, “Didn’t Know I Had It” is much better. Co-written by Nielsen and Tom Cerney (back again from his respectable contributions to Lap of Luxury, “Let Go” and “Wrong Side of Love”), the song is a sort of an epilog to the life of the gigolo from “He’s a Whore.” On the other hand, it’s not an altogether original sentiment. “Gee, you were a really great gal and I let you get away.”
“Ride the Pony” finds the band experimenting with funk and, while the result isn’t a success in that arena, it earns points for effort. “Girlfriends,” on the other hand, is an example of the band letting loose its second-rate Mötley Crüe or third-rate AC/DC. Either way, it’s 4:32 you could spend doing something better, like scooping the cat box. “Let Her Go” fares a bit better, hitting the funk nail better than “Ride the Pony,” but it’s slight melody and forgettable lyrics undo what is otherwise a pretty decent song. The closers, “Cry Baby” and “Love Me for a Minute” once again find the band trying to mimic someone else. The former sounds like an Aerosmith outtake and the latter is reminiscent of the worst parts of the Stones’ Undercover record or, worse, Mick Jagger’s horrid She’s the Boss.
In the end, Woke Up with a Monster is hard to pin down. It’s not a “return to form” and it’s not an embarrassment. If anything, it’s the sound of band recognizing its mistakes of the past decade and doing an admirable job of correcting them. A major step in the right direction, but given how far they had descended from their self-established standards, Woke Up with a Monster is, to steal a line from Jon Stewart, like being the skinniest kid at fat camp.
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