If Nickelback were a new band today, would people still hate them — or give them a chance?

Anne-iversaries is a bi-weekly column by writer Anne T. Donahue that explores and celebrates the pop culture that defined the '90s and 2000s and the way it affects us now (with, of course, a few personal anecdotes along the way).

In March 2000, you likely yet hadn't taught yourself to hate Nickelback. Their breakthrough single, "How You Remind Me," wouldn't be released for another year and a half. You could still walk into a public space and not hear their music. 20 years ago, they were just a band from Alberta gearing up for the wide release of their sophomore album The State (originally released independently in 1998), free from the curse of being one of the most polarizing acts in the world. But if Nickelback were a brand new band releasing music today, I think we might actually like them.

This sentiment is shocking, I'm aware. For the record, I'm not a Nickelback fan. I wasn't in 2001, and minus "How You Remind Me" and their 2002 Spider-Man tie-in ("Hero," another jam that everybody I know — including me — genuinely seemed to like), I enthusiastically joined the chorus of haters who flew the anti-Nickelback flag for the last 19 years. Their persona has always been confusing — a mix of alpha male bravado combined with a healthy dose of unfounded angst and general resentment — and their music has hinged heavily on a type of aggressiveness that seems to come complimentary with an oversized pick-up truck that sits on large, raised wheels. In fact, their staunch commitment to this very particular brand of rock and/or roll has resulted in the group becoming a bit of a punchline and, despite the band finding legitimate mainstream success (and enough of an audience to fill auditoriums on the regular), most of us have yet to meet a bona fide fan. But I would argue that this is because of the era they were born into — one where genres of music were strictly defined by the subcultures that congregated around them.

Over the last decade, reclaiming pop music has become a rite of passage for the old millennials who'd deprived themselves of Top 40 for eons because it wasn't "cool" enough, and younger generations have done away altogether with letting genres determine their music taste and personalities. But mainstream rock (think Nickelback, Theory of a Deadman, Disturbed, Three Days Grace, etc.) has never seen the renaissance that pop has experienced. Because yes, it found its way to the charts, but circa 2000s, its listenership was vast and confusing. Over the last two decades, "rock and roll" (in the most general sense) has been consistent in that it usually just happens to be on, somewhere, maybe playing in the background. Unlike indie or pop or hip hop or R&B or electronica or even country, it simply...exists without any real context. It hasn't really belonged anywhere or said very much, and doing either is crucial in an era where music is tied to so much more than white dudes singing about being rock stars.

The thing is, if Nickelback came out today, their trajectory may have been different. Now that the cultural climate of 2020 has alleviated the pressure of subscribing to only particular sects and genres of music (thank you, streaming services, social media, and bigger and better discourse around who we're listening to and why and hey, stop being such a snob, just listen), musicians have more room to evolve and grow. Risks are championed, particularly as artists have begun pushing back at towing an industry line — and as listeners, we've also changed. We've learned that artists contain multitudes and that just because we wouldn't live or die for a particular one doesn't mean they don't have value. We're less inclined to place a group or artist in a box and force them to stay there. And we're getting better about judging the sounds that another person may have strong feelings for (even if we can't possibly understand why).

On the 20th anniversary of the last album to come before the band's big break, it's interesting to think about our relationship to Nickelback — and wonder whether, had some of us not been so fastened to genres and the behaviours we aligned with them, there may have been room to hate them a little less.- Anne T. Donahue

It's not like criticisms of the band are unfounded. Their lyrics have been appropriately cited as misogynistic, their sound has been described as formulaic, and their whole shtick feels a tad clichéd. (White guys on guitars: groundbreaking!) Aversion to Nickelback is an aversion to the sect of a genre that's notoriously heteronormative and hypermasculine — a genre that prioritizes the voice of some dude who seems like he'd have some strong opinions about a buffet of topics it would suit him better not to weigh in on. So if Nickelback came out today with the exact music they released 20 years ago, they'd probably be cancelled even quicker than they were circa 2000. But what if they adapted for the times?

What if they used their loud vocals to angrily question the norms that exclude everyone who isn't them? What if they abandoned their bravado and bullshit to acknowledge that despite being just a bunch of regular guys, they still felt vulnerable and insecure? What if the women in their songs were people instead of canvases onto which to project the misogyny that was the norm in the early 2000s? Rock music can mean something, and we know that. So what if their version of it really did? And what if today's sonic fluidity allowed them to abandon the restrictions of what a rock band "had" to sound like? Imagine the possibilities.

The debut of Nickelback in the year of our lord 2020 would likely still alienate the people who never cared for their work, but the hatred for said work would likely be less aggressive. To have hated Nickelback was once a bona fide personality trait; now, most of us would be embarrassed that someone's dislike for something needed to be broadcast so loudly. You might still not personally enjoy their music, but on the 20th anniversary of the last album to come before the band's big break, it's interesting to think about our relationship to Nickelback — and wonder whether, had some of us not been so fastened to genres and the behaviours we aligned with them, there may have been room to hate them a little less. Because outside of not particularly caring for their sound, I'm actually not sure why so many of us continue to hate Nickelback.