<\/p>\n
Not too long ago, it was fashionable to hate Nickelback. For whatever excuses we gave ourselves to justify a one-sided war against a group of guys infinitely more successful than their critics, I was just as guilty of piling on.<\/p>\n
Dunking on something popular is a cheap thrill, after all. Even now, still feeling the afterglow of peak Nickelback hate, I also feel the need to qualify my take on 2023\u2019s Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em> with this: I\u2019ve never been a fan. But I\u2019d also be lying if I said I never caught myself drumming along on the steering wheel when one of their songs came on.<\/p>\n After watching Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em>, I gained a new respect for the Canadian rockers. They told their story head-on, dedicating a big chunk of the documentary to their formation, rise, backlash, and continued success.<\/p>\n Starting from working-class beginnings, Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em> tracks their transformation from a struggling metal band in Hanna, Canada, to a pop-rock juggernaut. Like most rockumentaries, it doubles as a vanity piece, but it also lays out the grind that got them there.<\/p>\n Chad Kroeger explains how he borrowed money from friends and family to fund early albums, paying them back with interest once sales came in. They hustled radio stations to spin their tracks until persistence turned into massive success.<\/p>\n That success is exactly why people hated them. At their peak, \u201cHow You Remind Me\u201d was played over 1.2 million times on U.S. radio between 2001 and 2009, according to Nielsen SoundScan. You couldn\u2019t escape them, whether on radio or TV. Nickelback was everywhere, touring constantly, putting on huge shows, and churning out albums.<\/p>\n The backlash gets addressed in Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em>, with the band poking fun at the memes and insults thrown their way. They admit it wasn\u2019t fun to live through, but they\u2019ve since leaned into the joke. They deserve respect where it\u2019s due. They took their licks, moved on, and laughed with the crowd.<\/p>\n My biggest takeaways from Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em> is that they\u2019re relentless workers and genuinely good to the people around them. Sure, documentaries are often puff pieces<\/a>, but stories from fans and crew back this up. For every Reddit rant about them being \u201csellouts,\u201d there are firsthand accounts from studio techs praising their generosity. One even recalled how the band paused sessions to watch hockey and drink some beers, yet still paid everyone for the downtime.<\/p>\n The most telling story is how Kroeger treated drummer Daniel Adair. When Adair was sidelined with a pinched nerve, the band kept him on payroll until he recovered. Even when he thought about leaving, they worked through it instead of replacing him with a session drummer. That\u2019s rare loyalty in an industry built on revolving doors.<\/p>\n Documentaries like Hate to Love: Nickelback<\/em> are part reputation management, sure, but this one sheds light on why Nickelback became the most hated band in rock. Living through it, the hatred felt justified. Looking back, it\u2019s clear most of it wasn\u2019t. Struggling musicians and bitter internet critics<\/a> will always bash popular acts for writing generic music with the end goal of worldwide fame in mind, when in reality they just worked hard until they made something out of themselves.<\/p>\n I still couldn\u2019t name a deep cut beyond the singles that dominated radio, but I\u2019ve come to the conclusion that the hate Nickelback experienced was mostly a case of \u201chate \u2018em cause you ain\u2019t \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\nNickelback Did Nothing Wrong But Be Popular<\/strong><\/h3>\n
It\u2019s Not Like Them To Say Sorry<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Nice Guys Taking It In Stride<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Reputation Management And Fan Service Is A Common Practice<\/strong><\/h3>\n