In 1978, Cheap Trick had barely made a ripple in the United States (though their song "Surrender" from their third album Heaven Tonight gave them their first minor success on the Billboard singles charts).
Japan, however, was a completely different story. The lads from Rockford, Illinois were treated almost as the second coming of the Beatles—something that, honestly, still confounds me. It’s not that Rick Nielsen and crew weren’t deserving of such accolades, but that it’s difficult for me to see how Japanese audiences latched onto the power-pop that Cheap Trick played with such enthusiasm.
Cheap Trick At Budokan captures that frenzy at its height—and, as a result, finally allowed Cheap Trick to break out in the States. It’s a respectable performance that shows their studio efforts translated well to the live stage, and remains a good portrait of where they were early in their career.
One quick note: This review is of the original album. Additional songs from this concert were released on Budokan II, and combined on Cheap Trick At Budokan: The Complete Concert. I’ll get to these eventually.
Look, I’ll be up front: I don’t understand why Cheap Trick stirred up Beatle-esque screaming reactions from their audiences in Japan. That’s not a knock on the band, by the way. What I do know is that through these ten songs, what is captured is an audience having a great time—though the band might just be having even more fun.
Just listen to how they get into songs like “Come On, Come On,” “Big Eyes,” the ubiquitous single “I Want You To Want Me” and their cover of “Ain’t That A Shame.” The audience feeds off the energy from guitarist Nielsen, vocalist/guitarist Robin Zander, bassist/vocalist Tom Petersson and drummer Bun E. Carlos... but the band likewise feeds off the crowd’s energy. As a listener, it’s hard to not get caught up in that emotion.
Even the knowledge that this is an incomplete concert that wasn’t actually recorded at Budokan (but was still recorded in Japan) doesn’t take anything away from this set. The thing, though, is that we’ve probably heard “I Want You To Want Me” so often on classic rock radio that we could be sick of it. In the setting of Cheap Trick At Budokan, though, it does seem to take on a different life—and, in its natural surroundings, is a much better fit.
And that, kids, is where Cheap Trick At Budokan succeeds. It takes a band in its element, at the height of their popularity (even if it wasn’t in the States), and it captures the essence of the group. There’s a reason why this became the first truly successful album for Cheap Trick in the States—namely, it was so damned infectious. And, nearly 50 years later, it still is.