“I just straight-up stole it.” That blunt confession sits at the heart of one of rock’s most fascinating borrowing stories – and this is where things get surprisingly controversial.
Minimalism collided with arena rock in 1972 when Pete Townshend wrote “Baba O’Riley,” a track that would help define The Who’s classic album Who’s Next.
Townshend built the song around a looping, arpeggiated pattern that feels hypnotic and mechanical, yet strangely emotional.
Inspired by avant‑garde composer Terry Riley, that repeating figure became the motor that drives “Baba O’Riley,” turning it into both an anthem and a blueprint for where rock could go next.
The myth of the “synth riff”
People often talk about the opening of “Baba O’Riley” as if it were a pure synthesizer line, but that’s not quite true.
Townshend actually created the part on a Lowrey Berkshire Deluxe TBO‑1 home organ, using its “Marimba Repeat” setting to generate that bubbling, percussive feel that sounds like early electronic music.
The result is a riff that seems electronic and futuristic, yet is built from a relatively modest piece of home gear – a reminder that innovation often comes from pushing simple tools in unexpected ways.
As hooks go, this one is brutal in the best sense.
It grabs your attention in the first seconds, locks your ears in place, and doesn’t really let go for the entire five‑minute runtime of the track.
It’s the kind of musical idea that feels so obvious once you’ve heard it that you wonder how it didn’t exist before – and that’s exactly why other musicians couldn’t resist “borrowing” from it.
Enter Cheap Trick and Tom Werman
Producer Tom Werman was one of the many listeners who became obsessed with Townshend’s synth‑like pattern.
He didn’t just admire it from a distance, though; he eventually decided to use the idea himself while working with Cheap Trick later in the 1970s.
Here’s where it gets interesting: he admits he didn’t just take inspiration from it – he lifted it.
The lightbulb moment happened while Werman was recording “Surrender” for Cheap Trick’s 1978 album Heaven Tonight.
Guitarist Rick Nielsen had written “Surrender” as what he called a “rock nursery rhyme,” a catchy, youthful song about how strange and slightly unhinged parents can look from a teenager’s point of view.
That playful yet honest angle made the song feel both fun and oddly relatable.
Rick Nielsen’s “rock nursery rhyme”
Nielsen has described writing “Surrender” alone at home late at night, strumming an unplugged electric guitar while a simple rhythmic groove fell into place.
From there, he began singing the now‑famous opening line to himself – “Mother told me, yes, she told me, I’d meet girls like you” – and realized it sounded like a twisted nursery rhyme for a leather‑jacketed high‑school kid.
He jotted down the lyrics as they came, in a kind of stream‑of‑consciousness flurry, weaving together exaggeration, humor, and real memories.
The line “Mommy’s all right, daddy’s all right, they’re just a little bit weird” captured that universal teenage realization that every family is odd in its own way.
Nielsen himself joked about how strange his parents seemed to him growing up – which is especially amusing coming from a man famous for playing a five‑neck guitar onstage.
It’s a perfect example of rock musicians poking fun at their own lives while turning that experience into something an entire generation can sing along with.
The moment of musical theft
While Nielsen hammered out the opening chords of “Surrender” on his electric guitar, Werman heard something that clicked.
Maybe it was the theme of teenage angst and independence that triggered a mental link to Pete Townshend’s work; Townshend’s songs often explore similar emotional territory.
Werman later explained that Townshend was his primary musical hero, which makes his next move feel both like a tribute and a provocation.
At some point in the session, Werman decided that the “Baba O’Riley” style riff would sit perfectly behind Nielsen’s power chords.
In his own words, “I just plain stole it.”
He took the keyboard riff concept from “Baba O’Riley” and dropped a version of it into “Surrender,” using it to bolster Nielsen’s guitar parts and give the track a distinctive rhythmic undercurrent.
According to Werman, that borrowed keyboard figure was his main creative contribution to the song.
And here’s where it gets controversial: is that outright theft, a respectful homage, or simply how rock has always evolved – by reworking ideas rather than reinventing everything from scratch?
A lot of listeners never even notice the connection, but once you hear it, it’s hard to un‑hear.
“Surrender” as an album opener
“Surrender” turned out to be an ideal opening track for Heaven Tonight.
The album blends punchy power‑pop hooks with slick, radio‑ready production, positioning Cheap Trick as a band that could fill arenas while still sounding quirky and sharp.
Werman has said that he loved what they did with “Surrender” and that everyone involved felt a real buzz about the track.
The song didn’t explode on the charts in the way some might expect – it wasn’t a massive hit single – but it did receive significant radio airplay.
Traditionally, the first song on side one of a vinyl album is chosen as one of the strongest statements on the record, and “Surrender” earned that slot on Heaven Tonight.
Werman has also suggested that it had serious competition even within the same album, because the record was packed with strong songs ready to grab listeners.
Climbing the charts and crossing the ocean
Released as a single in June 1978, “Surrender” managed to push Cheap Trick into the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at number 62.
That might sound modest, but it helped increase the visibility of both the band and Heaven Tonight, which reached number 48 on the album chart.
In Japan, the record performed even better, climbing to number 11 and signaling that Cheap Trick had struck a deep chord with audiences there.
Executives at the Japanese branch of their label, Epic, noticed the band’s growing popularity in that market.
Seizing the moment, they decided to release Cheap Trick at Budokan, a live album recorded during the band’s spring performances at Tokyo’s famed Budokan arena.
This decision would dramatically reshape the band’s global trajectory and extend the life of songs like “Surrender.”
The Budokan effect
When At Budokan eventually hit the U.S. in February 1979, it didn’t explode overnight but instead built momentum gradually.
The record’s success was fueled by strong radio play for tracks like “I Want You to Want Me” and their energetic cover of the Fats Domino classic “Ain’t That a Shame.”
As the live versions spread, they introduced new listeners to Cheap Trick’s catalog and reignited interest in earlier material.
“Surrender” benefited from this delayed ripple effect.
By the time At Budokan gained traction, the song was already threaded into the band’s identity, and the live performances helped solidify it as one of their signature pieces.
In a way, that initially “stolen” riff had helped launch a song that would become a core part of the band’s reputation.
Building toward Dream Police
While At Budokan was climbing the charts, Cheap Trick and Tom Werman already had their next studio album, Dream Police, finished and waiting.
The label held it back, letting the live album run its course before releasing new studio material.
That strategy ended up turning Dream Police into the band’s most commercially successful studio record.
Dream Police took Cheap Trick’s sound into a more ambitious direction.
The songs were generally longer, the arrangements more elaborate, and the production more adventurous, including the use of orchestration.
The title track in particular shows just how far the band and Werman were willing to push their mix of power‑pop, hard rock, and theatrical flair.
The riff returns in “Dream Police”
For the song “Dream Police,” Werman once again dipped into the same well of inspiration that had shaped “Surrender.”
He has noted that the “Baba O’Riley”‑style synthesizer riff shows up again in this track, altered but clearly related.
In “Dream Police,” that pattern is played at half‑time, stretching out the feel and making it sound even more ominous and cinematic.
This time, the arrangement also brought in real string players instead of relying solely on keyboard textures.
Rick Nielsen wrote an actual string chart for “Dream Police,” adding an orchestral layer that hadn’t typically been part of Cheap Trick’s sound.
Werman has said he believes this is the only Cheap Trick song that used a full string section, aside from his decision to employ double cello on “Auf Wiedersehen” to reinforce the bass line.
Success by the numbers
Commercially, the progression from album to album shows how the band was building momentum.
Heaven Tonight sold around seven to eight hundred thousand copies, a major step up from In Color, which moved roughly three hundred thousand.
Then Dream Police pushed things even further, selling just over a million copies.
Each record nudged the band higher, and the strategic timing around At Budokan amplified that trajectory.
Looking back, it’s striking how a single keyboard concept – partly inspired by an avant‑garde composer and popularized in a massive Who anthem – quietly threaded its way through Cheap Trick’s climb to mainstream success.
What started as Townshend experimenting with a home organ setting became raw material that another producer felt free to repurpose, twice, in charting a different band’s rise.
Elizabeth Swann behind the story
The narrative is framed by writer Elizabeth Swann, a devoted fan of prog‑folk who has documented the scene from remote corners of the world for outlets like Prog, Wired, and Popular Mechanics.
She is known for her passion for rare music, including live reel‑to‑reel recordings of Bert Jansch and John Renbourn, which she treasures alongside an unconventional collection of souvenir teaspoons from travels through the Appalachians.
When she is not hunched over her Stella 12‑string acoustic guitar, she’s often at her workbench, soldering iron in hand, modifying gear and coaxing new sounds out of old equipment.
The bigger question: homage or theft?
So here’s the part most people miss: rock history is full of moments like this where the line between influence and outright theft gets very blurry.
On one hand, Werman’s honesty – “I just plain stole it” – sounds incriminating.
On the other, rock and pop have always thrived on reusing and reshaping musical ideas.
If producers and bands never borrowed motifs, would the genre even sound like itself?
That raises a bigger, more controversial question: when a producer lifts a recognizable musical pattern, is it unethical plagiarism, clever homage, or simply part of the creative conversation between artists?
Should fans judge that move differently when it’s openly acknowledged versus when it’s quietly hidden in the mix?
What do you think: did Tom Werman cross a line by reusing the “Baba O’Riley” riff concept in “Surrender” and “Dream Police,” or was he just doing what rock producers have always done – borrowing, transforming, and pushing great ideas one step further?
Does knowing this story change how you hear those songs, or does it just make the connections between The Who and Cheap Trick even more exciting?
Share whether you see this as theft, tribute, or something in between – and why.
