Review Summary: Can I get another doctor?
Here it is: the popularly accepted lowest point in the Cheap Trick discography. Or, to be more precise, this is the opinion many music fans gravitate toward. But is it really so? Before moving on to the next album, this reviewer considered
Standing on the Edge to be worthy of that uncomplimentary title. Can
The Doctor be even worse?
First, let’s go back a bit. After several all-around excellent releases in the 1970s, it seemed Cheap Trick would navigate the next decade with equal confidence. However, reality turned out differently: their output in the first half of the 1980s got progressively worse (with a couple of exceptions). Yes, the band still managed to maintain some quality here and there, but in their desperate attempt to secure a hit song to boost sales and please their label, Cheap Trick seemed to be losing focus. This finally resulted in
Standing on the Edge, their biggest artistic failure at the time – which, surprisingly, sold quite well. And that brings us to our main subject and the band’s next album:
The Doctor.
The first thing you notice when putting on the record is the more active role of synths, though it should be noted they are implemented much more organically here than on the previous album. On some tracks, they practically replace one of the main weapons in Cheap Trick’s arsenal – Rick Nielsen’s guitar – pushing it back into pure accompaniment! And that would be understandable if the synth parts contained at least an ounce of Cheap Trick’s signature quirkiness. Instead, they sound so banal and typical of the era’s commercial demands that it is hardly surprising fans gave the album such a hostile reception.
However, the synths are not the only problem here. It’s difficult to say exactly why, but many of the band members openly “phone it in” on a lot of the tracks. For example, Bun E. Carlos’ drum parts became so primitive that I actually feel embarrassed for him. On some cuts, it sounds as though he simply stepped out for a cup of tea (or something stronger), leaving a lazily programmed drum machine in his stead while no one even noticed. The background tapping on
Name of the Game cannot be taken seriously, yet Cheap Trick somehow considered it good enough for the final mix. The basslines are barely audible, and Rick more often than not takes the path of least resistance – his trademark melodies are virtually absent on this album. Instead, he opted for one or two simple riffs per song, viewing that as sufficient input. The only one who at least tries to put in some effort is Robin Zander, though even his contributions often feel routine.
And yet, paradoxical as it may sound, there are a few bright spots that put
The Doctor a couple of notches above
Standing on the Edge. For example,
Rearview Mirror Romance turns out to be a solid track, and the title track serves as a nice remainder that Rick still knows how to play guitar, giving us something tangible to appreciate. Moreover, that particular cut demonstrates a pretty good balance between 1980s cheese and the band’s own style – something which, had it been applied to the entire record, might have completely changed our perception of it.
Man-U-Lip-U-Lator and the closer,
It's Only Love, are also fun. Although, to be honest, none of these tracks can be labeled as “classic” Cheap Trick.
As a result, it turned out
The Doctor is not quite as awful as its reputation suggests, even if it is difficult to call it an achievement either. The main problem here seems to be a palpable weariness within the band. It is as if they no longer understood what their true strengths were, and the forced pressure to deliver a hit song only strained an already frail foundation. If only the band had spent more time working on the tracks and maintained a clearer vision of what they wanted to achieve (and the song
The Doctor gives us a brief, tantalizing glimpse into what could have been), the end result might have been entirely different. Instead, what we have is an uneven album – one that, despite its flaws, I still cannot bring myself to call the worst in the band’s catalog.
