Mike Kroeger’s voice sounds like it has been dragged across several thousand kilometres of gravel highway, which is fitting for a man who has spent the last two decades anchoring the most debated rhythm section in rock history. We caught up via phone while the band was taking a breather from the studio, opting instead for the sporadic adrenaline of select festival dates. It is a strange time for Nickelback. They are no longer the fresh-faced indie kids from Hanna, Alberta, nor are they the ubiquitous radio villains of the late 2000s. They have entered a sort of elder-statesman phase where the vitriol has cooled into a weirdly respectful curiosity.
The conversation turned immediately to the sheer weight of time. It has been 20 years since the band was grinding out the release of *The State*, back when a Roadrunner Records deal was the ultimate prize. Watching them now, headlining massive stages with pyro and polished production, it is easy to forget the van-and-trailer era. But Mike hasn't forgotten. He sounds grounded, even when discussing the absurd heights they have scaled.
"Twenty years is a long time, and it turns out you can fit a lot of life into 20 years, and I’d say we’ve done that," Mike says. "In that time, this band started from nothing and it’s become definitely something more than nothing. I didn’t have any kids then. Now I have two kids, as do Ryan in my band and Daniel in my band. We each have two children, and a lot has happened in 20 years, no doubt. From eating out of gas stations and driving a van across Canada to where we’re at now. It’s a very, very different world for sure."
That shift from gas station snacks to five-star catering is more than just a financial upgrade; it is a psychological overhaul. The "indie" Nickelback was fueled by a desperate need to be heard. The modern version is fueled by a need to maintain a legacy. It is the difference between fighting for a seat at the table and owning the restaurant.
"Aside from the obvious being younger, those guys were a lot younger, but these guys know a lot more, and that experience has taught us all how it all works, and also how to be grown ups and how to be adults," Mike says. "We learned that over the period of time, and all the life experience we’ve had in these 20 years, it’s really been kind of cool to develop as human beings and musician artists at the same time."
But even with that maturity, the rumour mill never stops. A few months back, a story caught fire online suggesting Nickelback was pivoting to a full-blown heavy metal sound. For fans of their heavier tracks like *Side of a Bullet*, it was an exciting prospect. For others, it was another reason to scoff. Mike is quick to shut down the hyperbole, blaming the modern clickbait machine for twisting a casual comment about his own personal taste into a band manifesto.
"I don’t know. I mean, that was kind of a funny thing that, I forget who the hell I was having that interview with, but it was misquoted," Mike says. "Context is obviously malleable, and this is one of those cases where context got slightly manipulated to make a story where there really wasn’t much. Because what I said in the interview is that 'I would like to make a heavy metal album', not Nickelback. And I said that I’m a huge fan of Slayer and would love to do a Slayer cover thing, but I never said Nickelback would want to, because I know my brother doesn’t like that kind of music. Not like Slayer heavy music. He likes heavy music and he writes heavy rock tunes, but I like it a little heavier and a little harder than him, and Ryan’s not a massive fan of really super hard metal, hardcore or anything like that, either. Daniel is to a degree, as long as the drumming is impressive, he likes it."
It is a classic case of the internet wanting a headline more than the truth. The idea of Chad Kroeger screaming over a thrash beat is a "story," whereas a bassist liking Slayer is just a Tuesday. Mike understands the mechanics of the media better than most, having been the subject of countless think pieces over the years.
"That was a little bit of context manipulation where if they just quoted it as it was, it wouldn’t really be a story, but because if you can dab the headline that says Nickelback wants to make a heavy metal album, that’s going to obviously generate a little bit of eyebrow raising and a few people are going to look up and pay it some notice," Mike says. "But that isn’t actually what I said. Well, having said that, who knows? I’m not willing to count on anything, but based on the music I’m hearing coming from Chad so far, the new stuff, it doesn’t have a real hardcore angle to it at all. Put it that way."
If the metal album isn't happening with the main band, what about a solo project? Mike seems almost exhausted by the suggestion. The life of a touring musician in one of the world's biggest bands doesn't leave much room for "side hustles." Between the logistics of the band and the demands of family life, the idea of starting from scratch with a new group seems more like a burden than a creative outlet.
"I don’t know. It’s a novel concept and it’s maybe a cool idea, but my life is very full," Mike says. "I don’t ever find myself going, 'What am I going to do now?' I’m never really idle for very long. I’m always doing something, up to something, and barely have enough time to do all the things that I already do, let alone start another band and make a record or something. I don’t know. Maybe it’s a pie in the sky thing."
And it is that "full life" that allows the band to play with such a diverse sonic palette. One minute they are the heaviest thing on rock radio with *Feed The Machine*, and the next they are dominating the adult contemporary charts with *Photograph*. This duality has always been their secret weapon, even if it confuses the purists. To Mike, it’s about testing the fences of their own talent.
"I don’t know, because we as a group, we’re all rather diverse in our musical tastes and our musical style preferences," Mike says. "So it’s nice to be able to do different things. Like try something that you haven’t tried before, or get yourself out of your comfort zone just a little bit. I think it’s really great, and for me, getting out of my comfort zone is playing these pop songs, and for Chad, maybe getting out of his comfort zone a little ... Actually not really. He’s kind of a heavy metal head at heart, so for him to play heavy metal, it’s just as good as playing love songs, but not for me. We challenge ourselves with these kind of stylistic changes, and it’s really cool to try new things, and try things and find out if you can even do them. You might do it and it might not work, it might not be good, but it’s worth a try."
Their more recent work, specifically the title track of *Feed The Machine*, suggested a more cynical, politically charged edge. In an era of surveillance and eroding privacy, the song felt like a rare moment of social commentary from a band usually associated with strippers and drinking. But Mike views the song through a more philosophical lens, citing the foundational ideas of freedom and security.
Twenty years is a long time, and it turns out you can fit a lot of life into 20 years, and I’d say we’ve done that. In that time, this band started from nothing and it’s become definitely something more than nothing. ...From eating out of gas stations and driving a van across Canada, to where we’re at now. It’s a very, very different world for sure.
"No. I think the title and sort of the thrust of the title was something that each one of us kind of had our own sort of take on what that is," Mike says. "And, I liked the analogy that the machine is essentially the overall establishment, and the way we feed the machine is we give our freedoms to it, and I really don’t believe that people get their freedom taken away. I believe that people give it up, and I think that’s what Feed the Machine is, is giving your freedom up to a system that says it needs it. One of the old, old founders of the United States said that a populace that trades its freedom for security deserves neither. I think it was Ben Franklin or maybe Thomas Jefferson said that, but it’s a very interesting quote because I feel like that’s kind of where we are now. We’re so damn scared that we’ll give up all of our freedoms if we could just feel safe. That’s why we’re taking our shoes off and you can’t take a bottle of water into an airport, is because somehow that makes us safer."
This analytical side of Mike is often ignored in favour of the "Nickelback is a meme" narrative. They were the first band to truly experience the concentrated power of internet hate. Before Twitter was a cesspool of outrage, there were entire websites dedicated to hating this band. It was a cultural phenomenon that should have destroyed them, but instead, it made them immortal.
"Well first we were loved, and then we were loved and hated," Mike says. "And like you say, now I think people are just getting bored hating."
It is a survivalist's perspective. If you stay in the room long enough, the people screaming at you eventually lose their voices. Mike doesn't spend his nights scrolling through comments sections looking for validation, though he isn't completely blind to the digital world either. He has learned to find the comedy in the chaos.
"I don’t really Google myself now, but I do follow it," Mike says. "I pay attention to the social media and things, because that’s a great place to go for humor. The socials, they can be a really hilarious place. Not to be kind of lame, but I try to focus on the hilarity. And if it’s something hilarious about us, I’ll laugh along with everybody else. If it’s mean and nasty and negative, then that’s boring. Anybody can do that."
The tide of public opinion shifted significantly when Deadpool—the ultimate Canadian anti-hero—came to their defence in a promo for *Once Upon a Deadpool*. Seeing Ryan Reynolds defend the band’s track record was a moment of peak Canadian culture. It turned the "Nickelback hate" into a punchline that the band was finally in on.
"Having a superhero that’s got your back is pretty cool, yeah," Mike says. "Not to mention that he’s a Canadian superhero, that’s pretty great."
The collaboration wasn't some corporate mandate. It was born from a genuine interaction with Reynolds, who wanted to ensure the band was comfortable with the bit before he even put pen to paper. It showed a level of professional respect that the band doesn't always receive from their peers.
"Initially, Ryan Reynolds reached out to us to ask us if we wouldn’t mind participating, and letting him use our song for a thing that he was thinking about writing," Mike says. "He hadn’t written it yet, but he wasn’t going to write it if we said no. And we’re like, 'Oh yeah, sure man. Do it.' Whatever, we trusted him because he just seems like the nicest guy in the world. So we’re just like, 'Okay. Sure. Go ahead.' And we authorized definitely the free use of How You Remind Me, and then he ran with it, and I thought it was hilarious. I thought Fred Savage’s part was hilarious. I thought the Deadpool’s parts were hilarious. I thought the whole thing was comedy gold, and in a way that it’s almost like a microcosm of the macrocosm. You’ve got the internet hater and you’ve got the internet defender on screen saying essentially what all the haters say is what Fred Savage was saying, and essentially what all the lovers and supporters say is what Deadpool was saying. It was like a very interesting sort of cross section of the issue, so to speak."
That song, *How You Remind Me*, remains the elephant in the room. It was Billboard’s song of the decade, a track so inescapable that it became the definitive sound of 2001. Many bands grow to resent their biggest hits, viewing them as shackles that prevent them from moving forward. Mike, however, views that attitude as an insult to the fans who put them in the position they are in today.
"That whole thing about bands who have the song that breaks them and makes them become a household name and make them a big deal is the one that they just hate playing and don’t want to play, it seems kind of stupid to me to do that or feel that way," Mike says. "It seems kind of ridiculous, because it’s your art, first of all. So, I guess every artist maybe has some art they are ashamed of, but it also seems like some artists, they put it out there and everybody wants it to be a success, and then when it’s a success they don’t like it anymore. I don’t understand it. It’s kind of confusing to me."
For Mike, the song is a "cornerstone," not a burden. He sees the faces in the front row when those first few chords hit, and he knows that for many, that song is a time machine to a specific moment in their lives. To deny them that would be a failure of their duty as entertainers.
"How You Remind Me is a song that we’ve played, hundreds of thousands of times, and that’s okay," Mike says. "The people want us to do it, so we want to give our fans what they want, and they want us to play How You Remind Me every night, so we do. It’s a cornerstone in the show. It’s a thing we couldn’t not do. We decided a long, long, long time ago that we could never take that song out of the set because it’s the calling card that introduced the world to us and introduced us to the world. Why we would all of a sudden start to hate it and not want to play it anymore seems kind of stupid."
While the band remains a Canadian institution, Mike has long since traded the snow for the sunshine of Los Angeles. The rest of the guys have stayed closer to home, maintaining the band's connection to their roots. Chad’s studio in Abbotsford remains the creative hub, a sprawling facility that serves as both a laboratory and a clubhouse for the band.
"I don’t. All the other guys still live in Canada," Mike says. "I have a home in Canada, I go there often, but I live in Los Angeles."
When asked about Chad’s legendary home studio, Mike’s tone shifts to one of genuine appreciation for the workspace they have built. "Yeah, it’s a big kid’s playground, pretty much. Everything’s there. It’s really fun," he says. The studio has seen the birth of their biggest records, and after a brief period where Chad sold the house, he has since repurchased it and fired the consoles back up.
"Yeah. In the past albums we’ve done, it’s been done in that studio," Mike says. "He sold that house for a while and then bought it back, and now the studio is set up again, and he’s starting to write tunes in there right now. Hell, he could be in there as we’re speaking."
The conversation shifts to *Rockstar*, perhaps their most polarizing hit. It was a song that satirized the very lifestyle they were beginning to inhabit. It was meant as a joke, a caricature of the "private jets and mansions" cliché, but as the band’s fame grew, the line between satire and reality began to blur.
"Some of those things have happened since," Mike says. "At the time we wrote that, there wasn’t really any of that. We were still pretty early on in things, I mean, there was still some excess for sure, but not necessarily to the degree of the song. That was why we wrote it the way we wrote it. Every lyric in that song was intended to be a tip of the hat to the absurd. Everything was to be tongue in cheek and ridiculous and preposterous. And actually some of those things did happen, which is kind of funny, but some of them that didn’t really even consist or they turned out to happen."
It is a strange feeling to write a hyperbole and then have it become your biography. "Yeah. Kind of cool, because we were trying to write a hyperbole, and it turned out that that even as excessive as we could think at that time wasn’t beyond what was possible," Mike says.
But what about now? Is there a song that captures the current state of Nickelback? According to Mike, that song hasn't been written yet. They view their albums as time capsules, and the current capsule is still empty, waiting for the next spark of inspiration to fill it.
"At this point? Not yet. No, I don’t think we have one of those at this point," Mike says. "I think every song is, or every album has for us, a snapshot song in it. Sort of a little bit of a time capsule, I think there’s one in every album. But right now, I think as far back as Feed the Machine’s coming up on two years old, so things have changed even since we recorded that, which we started recording close to three years ago. So it’s maybe time to make another time capsule."
The pressure to produce is lower than it has ever been. For years, they were the "workhorses" of the industry, churning out hits and touring relentlessly. Now, they are operating on their own terms. Mike is protective of his brother’s creative process, knowing the toll that years of being the primary songwriter can take.
"I’ve been really hesitant to kind of crack the whip or be the guy saying, 'Get in there and write another album,' because Chad’s been such a horse and such a soldier for so long that once we did Feed the Machine and then went on tour, I didn’t want to ever put any pressure on him," Mike says. "I just wanted him to just come around to it when he comes around to it. There was a point when he was suffering a little bit of burn out near the end of Feed the Machine, which typical. We all have a little bit, near the end of recording every album. I feel like if you don’t leave some of your mental health on the table, you’re not trying hard enough and it seems like making albums is like that. You go a little crazy when you’re deeply involved in it, you’re not totally functional, and that’s been how it’s been for us."
That honesty about mental health and the "toll" of creation is a far cry from the "party all night" image the band once projected. It shows a band that is finally comfortable in its own skin, no longer chasing the next hit out of necessity, but waiting for it out of desire.
"Certain ones took more of a toll than others, but it’s all self imposed, and it’s all really with the goal of making the best album possible," Mike says. "And, we’ll see what’s next. I want Chad to just come around to it as he comes around to it in his own time, and then we’ll just see what there is. If he wants to make another album, or if the material is strong and he feels good about it and we all feel good about it, we’ll do it. And if it doesn’t, and if it doesn’t come together, then we won’t. We don’t have to do anything, which in our career, that hasn’t always been the case. We’ve typically been beholden to someone until recently, and now we’re not beholden to anybody. We set our own schedule. We can record, not record, release, not release, go on tour or not go on tour. We don’t have to do a damn thing if we don’t want to, which is really kind of cool.
