How does that saying go? Familiarity breeds contempt?

 

 I'm convinced that, say, 15 or 20 years ago I would have come back from last night's ZZ Top/Cheap Trick double-bill rockathon at the Corel Centre at the very least mildly enthused about what I'd seen.

 

 But, hey, this is 1997. There's been a lot of negative baggage -- classic-rock radio, Budweiser commercials, Jock Jams -- heaped at the feet of bands who trade in the kind of capital-R Rock 'n' Roll espoused by those two acts, and it's pretty difficult today to work up a decent set of goosebumps at the thought of hearing well-worn standards like Cheap Sunglasses or She's Tight one more time.

 

 Apparently, even Ottawa -- a city that only recently purchased enough Phil Collins tickets to keep the man in business at the Corel Centre for two consecutive nights -- may finally be tiring of the familiar: Only about 3,800 fans worked up enough cash and energy to make it out to Kanata for last night's show.

 

 That said, the people who stayed home didn't necessarily miss a pair of dreadful performances. On the contrary, both acts turned in seamless, straight-from-the-CD sets that likely didn't disappoint discerning fans.

 

 ZZ Top had promised a "straight-ahead rock show" and brought just that.

 

 No scantily clad ladies, no flaming orange Rolls Royces. An all-bare stage, save a raised dais for drummer Frank Beard, bookended with twin faux-straw huts that would soon enough divulge the band's hirsute frontmen, guitarist Billy Gibbons and bassist Dusty Hill.

 

 From the opening number, Got Me Under Pressure, to the last, choogling throes of the glittery-jacketed encore Tush, it was essentially Greatest Hits Live time. Which is fine, I guess, when you've got scantily clad dancing girls and flaming cars to distract you from the songs you've heard a thousand times before.

 

 But because these newly crowned "official Texas heroes" are so damn good at what they do, their brand of showmanship is decidedly understated. Their crack playing is so effortlessly raunchy, so studiously sleazy, that there's nary a wasted movement to be seen in the performance.

 

 The spectacle of Gibbons and Hill -- looking more perfect for the parts of Uncle Jessie's beer-drinkin' and hell-raisin' younger brothers in the next Dukes Of Hazzard reunion movie every day -- sauntering lazily about the stage is a hoot. But unless Gimme All Your Lovin' or La Grange truly changed your life, you can't help wishing for just a small explosion.

 

 As for poor Cheap Trick? Sorry, boys -- Budokan, this isn't.

 

 When your name is synonymous with roaring arenas and acres of Bic lighters swaying like wheat in the wind, it must be pretty tough to get it up for a listless pack of ZZ Top fans parked in a three-quarters-empty hockey rink.

 

 But to its credit, the foursome took it all in stride -- guitarist Rick Neilson even turned up the house lights to pronounce the spotty crowd a "fine-looking bunch" -- and turned in a fun set of familiar arena anthems (I Want You To Want Me, Dream Police, the inimitable Surrender) and confidently rocking new material that one hopes signals the end of its Lap Of Luxury-era incarnation as a power-balladeering pop-metal band.

 

 Robin Zander's voice is still a potent force. And if things got a little too familiar, you could count on Neilson -- he of the bright red blazers and multi-shaped, multi-necked guitars (the five-headed monster emerged for Surrender) -- to provide some instrumental fireworks or at least a bit of comic relief.