by Pat Johnson
I know I’m supposed to hate Nickelback, but…I just can’t.

Before I go on I should mention that I have not downloaded a single Nickelback song ever.  They are completely absent on my iPod.  I have never seen them in concert, and I probably never will.

I am well aware of the disdain people have for Nickelback.  I know of the many popular Facebook groups denouncing their existence.  Hell, when I’m in a conversation with someone about their hatred for this group, I don’t even defend them.

But I can’t hate Nickelback, and that’s because of one thing.  When I’m in the car listening to the radio, or one of their songs comes across my XM receiver, I do one thing: I fucking wail.

That’s right, I admit it, I am a car singing man that will rock out to Nickelback.  I’ll belt out the chorus, I’ll hum along to the verses, or sing the wrong words.  And for a few short minutes I’ll bob my head to Chad Kroeger’s strained vocals as he sings about…something.

I’m not sure where this association comes from.  Perhaps it’s because Kroeger doesn’t really have that good of a singing voice, thus it’s easier to sing along with.  Maybe it’s because his refrains have an annoying ability to get stuck in your head.  Or maybe it’s because a small part of me actually likes them  –  dear god, could that be true?

I know what’s going through your head: Nickelback sucks.  But I can’t hate them.  I remember on 9/11 when we needed to get away from the news and there, on MTV, was the video for “How You Remind Me” playing over and over, and I remember singing along with friends because we were able to do something than watch the horrible images of the day.

I just can’t hate a band whose last 4 albums have sold almost 17 million copies, here in this age of illegally downloading music.

I know some hatred could come from being overplayed on the radio, but hey, crazy me thought that you were played on the radio because you were popular, not because you sucked.

So there you have it.  I won’t buy your music Nickelback.  I won’t go to your concerts.  I won’t even defend you in a conversation where people put you down.  But don’t worry.  You’ll always have me in my car singing along to whatever song of yours comes on the radio.