A rock n roll intervention, an open letter to Nickelback

I wrote this a year ago on a failed blog of mine, but it’s a lovely little tongue in check letter to one of the larger rock acts of my day, Nickelback. Not exactly writing related, but fans of rock music, enjoy!

Dearest members of Nickelback,

Like most rockers, I have my list of “dirty bands” that I’m ashamed to admit I really like, looking at you Hall & Oates, but until recently you weren’t one of them.

Hell, I even liked you before Silver Side Up, and the single, “How you Remind Me,” alerted the female populous to Chad Kroeger’s  used-car-salesmanesque good looks.

Maybe, the lyrics weren’t amazing, neither were the guitar riffs, you could even say they border on generic but as AC/DC and other bands have proved, that’s no hindrance to rock greatness. Besides that, I appreciated the band’s willingness to cover somewhat seedy topics such as domestic abuse and filicide, so much so that I defended you as your artistic endeavors produced All The Right Reasons.

This album for those who don’t know left us such lyrical gems as:

  • What the hell is on Joey’s head?    A hat maybe?….more importantly why do I care?
  •  I’ll have the quesadilla, ha ha Because if you can get a free meal you should totally buy what you’d have to drop a $1.50 for at Taco Bell.

And my personal favorite:

  • If everyone cared and nobody cried/If everyone loved and nobody lied/If everyone shared and swallowed their pride/Then we’d see the day when nobody died 

Well no, hate to tell you, even if we all cared, people would still die……

I even ignored the song “Animals,” which honestly brings about pedophilia  imaginary of that creepy 30 year old that spent just a little too much time outside of the high school building and at football game after parties. Sure the guy was cool ‘cuz he bought you beer and cigs but still the only girl who would go out with him was that skanky girl with low self-esteem and even she wouldn’t admit to her friends that they were actually dating….

But hey every band’s entitled to an album that never should have seen the light of day.

Then you produced Dark Horse which was neither dark, nor contained equestrian references and if you’re going that it’s the dark horse (not expected to win) vibe, well considering you already had three hit albums, that’s just moronic, unless you are trying to be a hipster, and well I doubt it Chad.

This album produce the  gem “Something in Your Mouth.”

  • In the spotlight, all night, kissing everyone./And trying to look so innocent while sucking on her thumb

I’m going to pause for a collective Ewwwwwww though I do applaud your ability to go past the obvious sexual reference and insert the image of a baby or perphaps toddler into your degrading song.

And if that wasn’t enough, you also produced the lyrical genious that was “Shakin’ Hands.”

  • Well she ain’t no Cinderella/When she’s getting undressed/‘Cause she rocks it like the naughty wicked witch of the west

Not since Pop Goes the Weasel has childhood imagery been so cleverly used. Indeed not one but two fairy tales are utilized in this borderline emasculating foray into lyrical laziness, especially considering that the wicked witch of the west, with her disgusting green face and warts has not even been cooped into slutty college Halloween outfits.

Even with this, I held out hope. Then I heard your newest single, “Bottoms Up” which  sounded exactly like EVERY song off your last album and now thanks to Chad signing them, a fair amount of My Darkest Day’s songs,  and is more like a grocery list of alcohol than a song, though I’m sure it took a good five minutes to write, killing my last tiny drop of hope that you might continue to contribute to the rock scene and not turn into a completely artistically devoid though commercially successful band…..

I get it. You are laughing all the way to the bank. With your slew of groupies to boot. But please please please, stop making crappy canned music.

You like sex. You like women. You like drugs. Good for you. But if I want that I can just go to my local CO-OP and pick up a Poison c.d.

Or maybe this is just a sick psychological game to see how crappy of music you can make and still sell a crapton of records. Either way, this girl’s done.

Love always (unless you continue to make sucktaular records),

Rach

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