Playboy Interview: Chad Kroeger

Chad Kroeger is one of a dying breed: the rock star.

Since 2001 his band, Nickelback, has sold more than I 5. 5 million records, a total exceeded by only nine contemporary ads. Of those, three are rappers (Eminem, Nelly, 50 Cent), three are country singers (Toby Keith, Tim McCraw, Shania Twain), and two are classy balladeers (Norah Jones, Josh Croban). 'That leaves just one actual band, Linkin Park, which plays a hybrid of rock and rap. For straight rock-and-roll popularity. Nickel-back is the king of this century's first decade.

No one was played more often on U.S. radio last year: Nickelback registered almost a mil­lion spins. That gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "heavy rotation." Every JO seconds another radio station played a Nickellmck song.

You might expect this Canadian quartet to have a profile that matches its popularity, like top-selling rock bands from the Beatles to Nir­vana. But Kroeger rarely gives interviews. One of the most in-depth articles about him appeared in Acreage Life, a Canadian maga­zine jor rural landowners.

Kroeger (it rhymes with "cougar") was born Chad Robert Turton on November 15, 1974. His father. Windy Turton, left the family when Chad was two, and Chad was raised b\ his mother, Debbie Kroeger, in Hanna, Alberta with his half-brother, Mike

Kroeger; Chad later swapped his surname for his mother's maiden name.

A remote blue-collar oil-tind-coal town of fewer than 3,000 people in east-central Alberta, Hannti wtis known mainly (if mil only) as the birthplace of hockey; Hall of Famer Lanny McDonald. When Kroeger wasti't running from the police, he would pass hours in his bedroom, learning MeUillica and Led Zeppelin songs on guitar.

That proficiency led to a cm vr ba nd called the Ullage Idiots, and when he began to fear he'd die in Hannti. Kroeger moved to \ancouver. The band rechristened itself, made a cheap demo called Hesher. then the full-length Curb, and hit the road like Napoleon's army. Finally, a second album. The State, sold enough copies independently to earn a contract from Road-runner, a heavy-metal label.

Silver Side L'p came next, in 2001, featur­ing the group's breakout hit. "How You Remind Me," a vindictive breakup song that mixes con­tempt with self-contempt; it spent four weeks as the number one song in the U.S. Kroeger has called it "our Hotel California,' our 'Stairway to Heaven.'" Enemies circled around the band: Nickelback was dismissed as derivative, an amalgam of grunge bands from Creed to Alice in Chains. Even cheery American Idol judge Randy Jackson insulted Kroeger: "I swear that guy is like 45 years old and ugly as sin."

Kroeger's burly songs, often written from

the perspective of an aggriex<ed or outraged outcast, address ugh topics: domestic abuse ("Never Again," which ends in murder), absent fathers ("Too Bad"), jealousy ("Just For," which fantasizes about murder) and prison ("Where Do I Hide"). Two years later The Long Road launched with the song "Someday," which sounded a lot like "How You Remind Me. One Internet xvag even created a site that placed both songs simultaneously, showing how closely they overlap.

The Winnipeg Sun has lagged Kroeger a "talentless misogynist, "and The Neu< York Times concluded, "For hard-rock ridiculousness, Nick-elback is tough to beat." Even more definitively. The Boston Phoenix crowned Nickelback "the worst kind since the dawn of music."

But All the Right Reasons, released in late 2005, has proven its most popular album yet, thanks to "Photograph,"an ambivalent reminis­cence of life in Hanna (where Nickellxick filmed the video), and "Rockstar. "a good-humored fan­tasy of the high life. Then, overall 11-month period. Kroeger was arrested for drunk driving, getting into a fight outside a Vancouver strip club and punching a stranger who heckled him outside a Vancouver nightclub.

Kroeger and his fiancee, Marianne Coriuk, live on a 20-acre compound an hour southeast of Vancouver, a few miles from the Washing­ton state border, with views of the mountains

and horse stables on their land. Once Kroeger returned home after two years of touring and promoting the album, we sent Contributing Edi­tor Rob Tannenbaum to intewiew him.

"Near their house Kroeger has a two-story barn he converted into a recording studio," Tannenbaum reports, "where he works on songs with Joey Moi, the friend he commemorated in the 'Photograph' lyric 'What the hell is on Joey's head?' It's a high-tech clubhouse, flat-screen Tl's, an array of guitars, video games, a Nickelback poker table on the ground floor. He enjoys arguing and teasing, and when Goriuk joined us he turned into a swaggering flirt.

"For a guy who avoids and dislikes the press, he was generous and welcoming. 'Do you want to get into a nice bottle of red wine?' he asked soon after we started to talk, and he decanted an

Australian Pen/olds (irange shiraz 1999, which sells for about $600 a bottle. I told him I preferred Cha-teauneuf-du-Pape, but eight hours later, after we'd finished our third bottle, it lasted pretty good. A few days after our intenunt' I got a beautiful bottle ofChiiteauneuf-du-Pape in the mail, along with a note: Thanks for the great interview. Best, Chad.' At various limes he referred to himself as a redneck, a badass and an idiot. But he's also a gentleman."

PLAYBOY: The record industry is in turmoil. The labels don't have a plan, CD sales are col­lapsing. But Nickelback's most recent album sold 6.5 million copies. What's your secret? KROEGER: Even though we're both Canadian, Joey Moi and I refer to ourselves as the taste of Middle America. If I like some­thing, all the red states are prob­ably going to like it too, because 1 have the same tastes as those people. We probably watch the same television shows. PLAYBOY: Do you have middle-American tastes in everything— TV, cars, beer, movies, books? KROEGER: You could prob­ably scratch books off that list. [laughs] I like car chases, explo­sions, big boobs—the same things Middle America likes.

PLAYBOY: What changes would you make to save the record business? KROEGER: Well, illegal downloading is the biggest thing. That's why the music busi­ness is in the toilet. But downloading is a backlash against all the bands whose CDs have one good song and 11 shitty ones. The gatekeepers were like. "What's the Internet?" And now that they're knee-deep in it and can see their initials on the next noose, it's a little too late. PLAYBOY: How ironic that Nickelback is losing sales to downloading. You're a man who knows cjiiile a bit about stealing. KROEGER: True, [smiles] It could be karma. PLAYBOY: What's the best thing you ever stole?

KROEGER: Jeez. Someone's virginity, I'm sure, [laughs] One of the best things I stole I didn't get charged for. so I don't want lo bring it up.

PLAYBOY: We're sure the statute of limita­tions has passed. What was it? KROEGER: I stole a small truck, and 1 was facing jail time. My lawyer pleaded it down tojoyriding.

PLAYBOY: What were you going to do with I he stolen truck?

KROEGER: No, this line of questioning can't continue, Your Honor, [laughs] PLAYBOY: Did you steal things often? KROEGER: I broke into my junior high school about 11 times and found the com­bination to this huge walk-in safe. God, it was like my personal ATM. I was probably

13. I bought a guitar with the money I stole, video games, all kinds of stuff. PLAYBOY: How did you find the combina­tion to the sale?

KROEGER: It was in the vice principal's desk. I broke into the school with a couple of buddies and used a small kit of tools to get the doors open. It's a trick I could easily teach you—I can actually pick small locks. Right on a sticky pad in the vice principal's top drawer was a combination. It was so elaborate I fig­ured it had to be for the wall safe, which was probably about eight feet tall. You had to brace your foot against the wall to open it up. Once we got in there was money all over the place. We'd take $500 or $600 at a time, and nobody noticed.

Over a span of six or eight months I took thousands out of that thing. PLAYBOY: What happened when they noticed money was missing? KROEGER: Six of us each had to pay Slti" in restitution. I was the only one of the six in court that day who got sent to juvenile hall. And I didn't like the expe­rience. Incarceration's no fun. PLAYBOY: It sounds as though you were a bad kid.

KROEGER: I don't know how many times I got kicked out ol school. I just thought it was fun to be bad. To a certain degree 1 still think it's fun to be bad. You should just never do anything that's going to hurt someone else.

I did a lot of stupid stuff. I remember

being drunk and driving some­one's van without a license, then smashing it up. Then, while awaiting sentencing. I got picked up for shoplifting in Calgary. I was trying to go to a Metallica concert. I had to be released into my mom's cus­tody, and she still took me to lhe concert.

PLAYBOY: What did your mom think about your bad behavior? KROEGER: My mom knew I was a chip off the old block. PLAYBOY: What kind of guy is your dad? He left home when you were two.

KROEGER: My dad is a fighter. He got a lot of assault charges. That's what he was good at: fighting. My mom probably liked that he was a badass. I think she enjoyed tormenting my grandfather by dating the toughest guy in town. There's a Nickelback song called "Should've Listened," with the line "A little trick I picked up from my father/In one ear and out the other." I can definitely thank him for that one. [laughs] PLAYBOY: Was your dad a vio-lent guy?

KROEGER: Yeah, a lot of violence. I would hear stories from his friends about my dad beating

up three bikers at a time. At his peak he

was probably about six-foot-three and

260 pounds.

PLAYBOY: Was he ever violent with

your mom?

KROEGER: I don't think so, but my mom

may tell a ditlerent story.

PLAYBOY: Was he ever violent with you

and your brother?

KROEGER: He never raised a hand to

either of us, and I don't think he could.

It was tough lor him growing up, because

he was the boy named Sue—he really

was. His name is Wendall, and everybody

called him Windy. Guys would come to

the bar from other towns and go, "So

you're Windy?" Then he got on a rodeo

circuit, doing bareback, saddle-bronc

riding or roping. They would go to rodeos, then go to a bar and pick up women and fight. That's the stereotype of the rodeo circuit, and it's probably what attracted my father to it. PLAYBOY: Americans have an image of Canadians as being polite, maybe a little more educated than we are. We don't

really think of Canada as having-----

KROEGER: Rednecks? You're talking to one. That's why I bought 20 acres, because I want to build an AIV track in the back. At one point I called a buddy who sold used cars, and I said, "I want a whole bunch of shit cars brought up to my house. We want to smash out the windows, put on some helmets and have a demolition derby." It's amazing how much damage those little cars can take and still run. Wouldn't you like to try that? PLAYBOY: It sounds like fun. KROEGER: Yeah. So there may just be a little redneck in all of us. PLAYBOY: On your mom's side you come from a prominent Canadian family. KROEGER: My grandfather was the minis­ter of transportation for Alberta. I guess that would be the equivalent of a sena­tor. My grandfather essentially was my father. I learned a lot from him, and I saw the respect he was given. So it was very strange. Anytime I was with my grandfather we could be traveling in a private government jet, then the next minute I'd be living in a trailer. Two com­pletely different worlds. I tasted what it was like not to grow up poor, and I liked it. Then he died when I was 13, and I got to know what it was like to be really broke. I had to wear a ski suit to bed because we didn't have any heat in the winter. That wasn't a lot of fun. PLAYBOY: Was there food in the house? KROEGER: At one point when I was 14 my mom got addicted to a prescription medication of some kind, so she went through this dry-out program. When I got released from juvie and went home, it was just my brother, Mike, there. He wound up getting some type of food stamps from the government. We went into a store, and they didn't want to take them at first. Mike said, "If you don't cash this, we're not going to be able to eat." The woman in the store lived in our town, and she was probably going to tell everybody that story. That expe­rience was just awful for me. I would have starved before I'd go through that. [exhales] There's some shit right there that I've never told anybody. PLAYBOY: Without your brother, would you have starved?

KROEGER: I probably would have kicked in the front door to the store at one in the morning and grabbed a bunch of food. PLAYBOY: Your dad was gone, your mom was in rehab, your grandfather was dead. There wasn't much super­vision. You probably got away with whatever you wanted. KROEGER: I didn't go to school. I mean.

after the eighth or ninth grade, I don't remember going to school five days out of the week, ever.

PLAYBOY: What did you do instead ? KROEGER: Whatever the fuck I felt like. [laughs] I was a bad kid. PLAYBOY: And you never graduated from high school.

KROEGER: I was a few credits short of a diploma, and I just had no desire to go back to school, because I had a band wait­ing for me. We'd already learned 40 or 50 covers and had a booking agent. I was on the road a week after I got out of school. PLAYBOY: How did you get the money to make a record?

KROEGER: Once I got out of school my dad bought me a car for $ 1,000. I couldn't get insurance, so I stole a license plate and stuck it on the back of the car, covered in mud so you couldn't tell what the letters were. I had just gotten out of jail, with a court date coming, and I was going to get charged for another breaking and entering and attempted theft—that's a bit of a recurring theme. PLAYBOY: It's hard for us to keep track of all your arrests.

KROEGER: I had a game plan. I convinced my stepfather to lend me $4,000 to make a demo—that became Hesher—and I prom­ised him we would pay him back 55,000 in six months, after we had pressed 1,000

copies and sold them for $10 each. I took 51,000 and bought magic mushrooms, and I was going to sell them in Hanna to pay for all the unforeseen costs. PLAYBOY: Where did you get the con­fidence that you would be able to pay back the $5,000?

KROEGER: Oh, I'm a con artist, [laughs] I came up with this whole business plan that sounded incredible, and I conned him. He was like, "Not only am I going to help you out, I'm going to make $1,000 on my investment in six months!" Who wouldn't be interested in that? It took a couple of years, but I think we probably gave him $10,000.

PLAYBOY: Where did the name Nickelback come from?

KROEGER: My brother was working in a coffee shop where everything was $2.95, $3.95 or $4.95. He was constantly say­ing, "Here's your nickel back." He sug­gested it as a name, and I loved the fact that it didn't mean anything. It didn't denote what kind of music we played. It wasn't Facegrinder. PLAYBOY: Let's go back to the mushrooms. What else did you sell? KROEGER: I sold a little weed here, some mushrooms there. I had to subsidize the income somehow. I knew a lot of people who had weed, and a lot of people work­ing on the oil rigs needed weed. I could

get it. That seemed like a no-brainer. PLAYBOY: So is the song "One Last Run" from The State autobiographical? KROEGER: Absolutely it's autobiographi­cal. I can"t believe some of the shit I'm telling you. So this one time, I buy a case of beer and borrow this girl's truck, and she and I drive 45 minutes to the nearest city. I buy some weed, and we're driving back. We've got beer bottles all over the floorboards, and we're laughing, with the tunes cranked. Next thing I know, we're heading into a ditch. I see this metal pole coming at us, and I steer just to the left of it. Beer bottles are flying all around. I bring us back onto the road and bring the truck to a stop. Grass from the side of the road is collected a foot high around the entire truck, so the truck looks as if it's wearing a hula skirt. We get all the grass pulled off, and who pulls up? A cop. I've got an ounce of weed down the front of my pants. As he rolls down the window, I say, "We're just waiting for two friends. They had to stop for gas." He rolls up his window and drives away. That was "One Last Run." PLAYBOY: Your master plan worked, and the whole band moved to Vancouver. Was that a shock after living in Hanna? KROEGER: I left an entirely different world behind me when I came to Vancouver. I had really long hair and a big goatee—I looked like trouble, and it was difficult for me to get a job. God, the things I did. I sold seafood door-to-door. Can you imagine? I remember sitting on the floor of my apartment because I had no furniture. I didn't even have utensils. I had enough money to buy noodles, and I remember eating them with my fingers and feeling sorry for myself. PLAYBOY: Just noodles and butter? KROEGER: Who could afford butter? [laughs] I guess the stealing didn't stop, because I remember going to a res­taurant after that and grabbing some utensils. I'm kind of like a cockroach. I'll pretty much do anything to survive. Then I got this idea: I had my mom lie and say she lived on a $2.5 million property, and we secured a lease on a five-bedroom house. I rented it out to college kids and got to live for free, just by being a slumlord. PLAYBOY: What did you do after you quit selling seafood?

KROEGER: Telemarketing. God, I was good at that—sucking money out of poor old ladies. In fact, I got promoted. They finally said, "You have to be here all the time." I was forced to make a decision between the job and my band. I was like. Well, this is a no-brainer. PLAYBOY: You probably could have had a great career as a salesman.

KROEGER: Oh, I'm sure. But-----

PLAYBOY: Or maybe you have had a great career as a salesman. KROEGER: I was deciding whether or not 1 should say that, [laughs] Look, my band was everything even when it was

nothing. And I will never put another human being in front of my band. Ever. Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell a woman you love that if it ever came down to her or the band, she'd be pack­ing her suitcase? I mean, you never want to explain it quite like that. PLAYBOY: So you were a slumlord and a petty thief in Vancouver. That must have left plenty of time for the band. KROEGER: The telemarketing was all the training I needed to get on the phone with program directors at different radio stations across Canada. If I could get them to play my song, my brother could get our CDs into every store outside their city. We sold 10,000 copies of The State in a short period of time. Then we got signed for S200.000 U.S., which was $300,000 Canadian at the time. PLAYBOY: How small was your home­town, Hanna?

KROEGER: About 160 people went to my school. You knew everyone's name. PLAYBOY: What was the biggest thing to happen in Hanna while you were growing up? KROEGER: One night when I was about

eight I heard screaming in front of my house. Two older guys lived right across the street; they would have been some­where between 17 and 21. One of the guys was sleeping with someone else's girlfriend, and the boyfriend found them there together. I remember being terrified by the amount of noise—it sounded like someone was having a leg cut off. The girl was screaming, a truck engine was revving. I found out later that the boyfriend tied her up by the railroad tracks and drove over her several times, back and forth over her body. When the police went to arrest him, they found a newborn baby in a suitcase at the house. I think he pleaded insanity and got off. Not too long after, he shot himself with a rifle on a back road. So I had to go down and testify. That was a pretty big thing for me. PLAYBOY: All the stuff you've experi­enced—poverty, death, violence, drugs— seems to come out in your songs. They're pretty dark and angry. KROEGER: They used to be. "Rockstar" and "Photograph" don't feel dark and angry. PLAYBOY: No, but "Follow You Home"

is not a happy song. Neither is "Next Contestant." And "Animals" takes a very scary turn, after a young couple messes around in a car.

KROEGER: That exact thing happened to my mom and dad, and my grandfa­ther was holding a shotgun. It actually fucking happened! My dad pushed my grandfather down and started running. My grandfather fired into the air, but my dad didn't know that. He thought the shots were coming his way.

It's autobiographical; it's in my lin­eage. If I stopped now and never left this compound again and just had to tell stories from my lifetime. I could release 10 more albums easily. I had a great friend when I was young, a guy you could talk into doing anything. His name was Corey. I took him and a select group of people into my school and showed them how to get into the safe. Then Corey started stealing cars, and it never ended—until he was sent to prison. On his 18th birthday he was trying to get high in prison, and a guard sold him some type of detergent, which Corey injected into his arm. He died in prison at the age of 18. Had I not taken him into that school the first time, he wouldn't have gone down that hole and wound up injecting cleaner into his arm. I feel a little responsible. That's an awful feeling. That's one of a thousand stories.

I watched a guy kill himself once. My grandmother was in the hospital having an operation, and I saw a guy jump from die psych ward on the fifth floor and land just outside the cafeteria. It was awful. Two of a thousand stories. I've seen some weird, awful shit in my life. PLAYBOY: Have you ever seen a therapist? KROEGER: I was forced to after I got out of the youth detention center. The woman who was trying to treat me ended up having 16 personalities. That's three of a thousand stories. There's no shortage, is there?

PLAYBOY: Do you have any recurring dreams? KROEGER: Nothing noteworthy.

PLAYBOY: Bullshit.

KROEGER: I should have tried to sell that

one to you a little harder.

PLAYBOY: Here's why we want to know

about your dreams-----

KROEGER: If you want to sleep with me, just ask. [laughs]

PLAYBOY: You grew up seeing "weird, awful shit," as you said, and despite the circumstances you've made a pretty happy life for yourself. So it seems as if your songs and your dreams are where bad things still happen. KROEGER: It used to be. I used to think about all the people who wanted to fight me or harbored ill will toward me for something in the past. I wasn't the same person I am today. Two totally different people. If you like me now, you wouldn't have liked the Chad from before.

PLAYBOY: How did you change from bad Chad to good Chad? KROEGER: Let's start with being famous. 1 equate being famous with being a six-foot-tall gorgeous blonde with huge boobs. You gel stared at all the time. People behave differently toward you. But I always say, if you get on a roller coaster and then complain about the loop-de-loop, why did you buy that ticket in the first place?

I enjoy waking up every day and being me. Being the lead singer in a successful rock band is cool. I've experienced ridic­ulous pleasure that a lot of people will never get to experience. I have a really good grasp of reality. I have a good grasp of what people think of me. I don't have delusions about my band. I know what a lot of people think about us, and I'm okay with that.

PLAYBOY: How radical was the change? Has the new Chad sworn off violence? KROEGER: I still like a little bit of violence. I like wrestling with my friends. I like getting smacked in the face now and again. It lets you know you're still alive. PLAYBOY: Before you met your fiancee, how much screwing around did you do? KROEGER: I'm the singer in a rock-and-roll band.

PLAYBOY: That's a very coy answer. KROEGER: You know anything about zodiac signs? I'm a Scorpio. A Scorpio is pretty much a walking penis. Getting that under control is difficult. Also, I was born in 1974, the year of the tiger, which means I'm a shrewd businessman and I pretty much want to take over the world. I'm a walking penis that wants to take over the world. So you can imagine. PLAYBOY: How long did the thrill of having women throw themselves at you last? KROEGER: What, you think it's over? [laughs] That would be silly. It's like farts—when do farts stop being funny? PLAYBOY: So what happened on tour once "How You Remind Me" became a hit? KROEGER: I had three band members who weren't interested in doing much, and I'm the singer of the band. So I didn't exactly have to squabble with anybody. You know what you'd be shocked at? You'd be shocked at how many bands don'l party these days. I actually find that disturbing. Maybe they need mentors. PLAYBOY: Who were your mentors? KROEGER: The people I grew up with. I grew up with people who would push a nail through their own hand for a case of beer. PLAYBOY: Did you ever push a nail through your hand? KROEGER: No. I've done some stupid shit, though.

PLAYBOY: What's the stupidest thing you ever did for a case of beer? KROEGER: 1 put my own dick in my mouth. I was 14 and much more flexible at the time. It was soft and required a lot of pull­ing. I really wanted that case of beer. PLAYBOY: How many people were watching?

KROEGER: Two. I can't believe you're not even shocked I can put my own dick in my mouth!

PLAYBOY: Okay, if you can put your dick in your mouth right now, we'll buy you a case of beer. Any kind you want. KROEGER: You know, the stakes aren't quite the same anymore. I want jet time. You get me 25 hours of Netjets, and I'll put my dick in my mouth. PLAYBOY: So you like being dared to do things?

KROEGER: There's not much 1 won't do. I drank 13 Coronas in a row once, in Cabo San Lucas. The little flap that seals off your stomach and keeps the food from coming back up into your throat, I fucked that up. I can get a Corona down in five or six seconds, and I was racing against some kid. I was having a hard time beating him. I was like. Okay, 1 may not be able to beat this kid in speed, so I'm going to beat him in longevity. Then he got to six and was like, "I can't drink anymore." I put him in a headlock, took two of my fingers and stuck them down his throat, leaned him over a garbage can and forced him to puke, [laughs] Yeah, I'm an idiot.

PLAYBOY: We've heard you often take out your dick in public.

KROEGER: Is this what pi.wboy readers want to know? Do you want to see my dick? [Marianne Goriuk, Kroeger's fiancee, enters the room.]

PLAYBOY: We've heard your boyfriend likes to take out his dick in public. GORIUK: I've been working on curbing that for the past five years. I don't want anyone else to see it or talk about it. I can talk about it. But trust me, it's huge. PLAYBOY: When you met backstage, did Chad impress you?

GORIUK: The impressing came later on, when he continued to try. KROEGER: [Laughs] Sweet! GORIUK: Everybody tries to impress you at the first meeting. But for two straight weeks he kept calling me at work and sending me flowers. I knew his mom and his aunt and uncle. I used to cut his grandma's hair. She would always say to me, "You'd be perfect for my grandson." And I always pictured this short, fat, bald guy.

PLAYBOY: Onstage that night Chad said, "I have a funny feeling my future wife is in the crowd tonight." Did you have any feel­ing your future husband was onstage? KROEGER: She knew.

GORIUK: [76 Kroeger] He was talking to me. KROEGER: No, she was like, I want to bone the guy onstage; I don't want to get into a long relationship with him. Let me ask you this: Once you find a girl who's attractive and good with the pole and then you fall in love, isn't that when you pin the ring on her finger? PLAYBOY: Sure. Although generally, once you put the ring on her finger, you fol­low through and actually get married. (continued on page 138)

CHAD KROEGER

(continuedfrom jxigf 52)

You've been "engaged" for five years. KROEGER: Fucker, [laughs] GORIUK: I'm saying nothing. PLAYBOY: How do you cope with his sex­ual appetite?

GORIUK: Mine is twice as bad. [laughs] KROEGER: Oh, she makes me look like a choirboy.

PLAYBOY: You said earlier. "I know what a lot of people think about my band." We have a note card here with some of the worst things ever written about Nickelback.

KROEGER: I don'i even care. Do you know what it takes to be a music critic? Not much. Opinions are like assholes: Every­body has one.

PLAYBOY: But we're curious to see if you agree with some of them. The Vancouver Sun described Nickelback as one of the most despised bands in the world. Do you think that's true? KROEGER: People either love Nickelback or hate Nickelback.

GORIUK: Doesn't that happen to any big band?

KROEGER: Not quite the same way it hap­pens to Nickelback. Now, that could be due to bombardment. The music gets played all the time, and people who mildly dislike it grow to detest it because something they don't like is being shoved down their throat.

PLAYBOY: The Los Angeles Times wrote, "Nickelback's music isn't for hipsters or the illuminati. It's for people who don't want to have to think."

kroeger: At what show, besides Frank Zappa's, is someone trying to get people to think? Rage Against the Machine is the only band 1 can think of. I don't peg you as a Nickelback fan, but I heard you humming a Nickelback song earlier. PLAYBOY: It's a catchy song. KROEGER: 1 rest my case. PLAYBOY: You know how to write a catchy song.

KROEGER: I'm just an absolute melody whore. I love Klton John, the Beatles. Bob Marley is one of my favorites. The most uncharacteristic music 1 listen to is probably Abba. The songs are unbe­lievably catchy.

PLAYBOY: Is that all you want from your career, to write catchy songs? KROEGER: That could be the Canadian in me, wanting to please other people. My persona onstage, that Chad is a different guy. I become the fun guy, the party guy. I want to whip everybody into a frenzy and scream and blow things up. It's like 1 have my own game show and everyone gets to be a contestant. I'm there as an entertainer. Some bands get up with no lights and no production, and they say, "It's all about the songs." Hey. if it's all about the songs, I can listen to the fuck­ing CD at home. I'm here to see you live. Perform, monkey! \laughs] PLAYBOY: Do vicious reviews get to you? KROEGER: There's only so much you can lake. You get pretty desensitized. We've had people say a lot of bad things about us. How is it possible to have everyone

hate us? It's almost like, if you're dating a girl, do you want her dad to love you or hate you? She may like you more if her dad doesn't like you. If we ever get a positive review in Rolling Stonr, that album is in trouble, because those peo­ple cannot predict what a large-selling album is. They bashed the luck out of Led Zeppelin years ago. and now they call it one of the greatest rock bands of all lime. That just makes them look like hypocrites. Who's the most famous music critic who ever lived? They've never made a statue of a critic. PLAYBOY: Will Nickelback be vindicated 30 years from now. the way Led Zep­pelin has?

KROEGER: 1 don't know if we've been decimated to the level Zeppelin was. Maybe we have, maybe more so. PLAYBOY: Has a review ever caused you lo lose sleep?

KROEGER: Probably. But if I had lost sleep, do you think I would tell a music critic? I've been bummed out for a day. sure. Like, Wow, this person is taking my band more seriously than 1 am. If my music is fucking up your life, change the sta­tion, dude. At the end of the day. I'm just some guy who sings in a rock-and-roll band. I'm not Hitler. PLAYBOY: If we gave you a drug test, what would we find?

KROEGER: A decent amount of marijuana, and that's it. I'll smoke a doob a day. PLAYBOY: You have 20 acres out on your back lawn. Is anything illegal growing on il?

KROEGER: [Shakes head] We should fix that. With the amount of horseshit we have, why can't we plant some magic mushrooms? GORIUK: No.

KROEGER: You and I could have the largest hallucinogen factory in Vancou­ver. Why aren't we doing that? You like mushrooms too. Don't lie. GORIUK: I don't.

KROEGER: Yes. you do. The last time we had mushrooms together, weren't you dancing on the counter in the kitchen? 1 think you were.

PLAYBOY: Chad, what will you be doing on your 50th birthday? KROEGER: 1 won't be alive. GORIUK: Slop saying that. KROEGER: 1 will die on my 40th birthday. 1 dreamed it: I'll be onstage and have a heart attack. The crowd will think it's part of the show, and that will be the end. It's probably why I live every day like I'm dying. There you go. It's been foretold. I will be dead on my 40th birthday. PLAYBOY: Have you two ever videotaped yourselves having sex? KROEGER: We were in Cabo San Lucas. Where is that tape?

GORIUK: I don't know what you're talk­ing about.

PLAYBOY: Who were you in a previous life? KROEGER: In my last life I must have been a saint because I get to screw a good-looking chick and be the lead singer in a

fucking successful rock-and-roll band. I sleep until noon every day, and I've got more money than I can spend in two lifetimes, [to ('•oriitk] C'mon, let's go have sex. It's our third bottle of wine, and I'm getting horny.

PLAYBOY: Chad, how would you describe your taste in sex?

KROEGER: [To Coriuk] I'm pretty much a porn star, aren't I?

GORIUK: Didn't I call you Dirk Diggler the first time 1 came to Vancouver? We were out with friends, and he said he didn't like his name. KROEGER: Most Chads are nerds. Do you know any Chads?

GORIUK: He said, "Who do I look like?" And 1 said, "Dirk Diggler." PLAYBOY: What would your ex-girlfriends say about you?

KROEGER: They probably love me to this day. I talked with one of them after she started dating another guy, and she said, "I think you've ruined me for all other men." 1 couldn't help but smile at that. PLAYBOY: What's the most and least amount of money you've made in a year? KROEGER: I guess S8.000 would be the lowest, and that's probably on the high side. The most money I've made in a year is $25 million, this past year. Next year's going to be a good one. You may want to make my Christmas list. PLAYBOY: Why will next year be good? KROEGER: We're going into a renegotia­tion with our record label. PLAYBOY: How will you get them to rene­gotiate? You haven't fulfilled your con­tract yet.

KROEGER: My leverage is not to record. PLAYBOY: So you'll threaten not to give them another record unless they give you what you want. What will you ask for? KROEGER: A partnership with them. Labels can't be 50-50 partners with band alter band and have them fail, fail, fail, right? So when they get a band that sells records the way we do, they have to cover the losses of all the rest. That's why a contract is so skewed in the label's favor. Live Nation just offered us a deal to play 100 shows. You can't even imagine the money. It's in the neighborhood of the deal they did with Madonna [reportedly $120 million]. It's retarded. After party­ing all night at Joey's house, 1 woke up to a phone call from my manager, and he goes, "Live Nation just offered us da-da-da." And I went, "Wooo." He said, "Where are you? Are you drunk?" I hung up the phone, and lor two days I didn't even fiu king remember it. PLAYBOY: In "Rockslar" you sing about all the perks of being a celebrity. How many of the things you name do you actually have?

KROEGER: I'm missing only two: 1 don't have a star on Hollywood Boulevard, and 1 don't have a big black jet. Seriously, I think rock stars are dead. I don't think you can be a rock star anymore. But if behaving and partying like a rock star

arc the criteria, then 1 am a rock star— because I can drink most bands under the lucking table. 1 will party till noon the next day, much to her dislike. And I fuck like a champ.

GORIUK: Not when you've done the first two. [laughs] Maybe that will keep you home a little more.

KROEGER: Which leads me back to my disappointment with a lot of the bands today that can't party. You know who can party? Hinder. That band can fuck­ing party.

PLAYBOY: They sound a lot like Nickelback. So does Daughtry. Are you flattered? KROEGER: Everyone gets compared to someone else at the start. People said we were Creed's little brother. I've never been a Creed fan, so I consid­ered that comparison a little insulting, to be honest.

PLAYBOY: What prompted the opening line "1 like your pants around your feet" in the song "Figured You Out"? KROEGER: I was thinking about a girl I met, a model in L.A. You meet some­one, the sex is good, you think, Well, this is going to be really cool. She had a cocaine habit and wasn't who I thought she was.

PLAYBOY: Can you see why people think the song is misogynistic? KROEGER: The line about "I like my hands around your neck"? PLAYBOY: Yes.

KROEGER: Critics were the only ones who

thought that. All I ever heard from Nick-elback fans was "Play the 'hands around your neck' song again." PLAYBOY: Forget critics and fans. Do you think the song is misogynistic? KROEGER: Not at all. I was trying to show the light and dark of relationships. PLAYBOY: Have you ever had a Spinal Tap moment onstage?

KROEGER: Once when we were in Bris­bane 1 said, "I can't wait to go out and party in Melbourne." Our guitarist Ryan Peake looked over at me, and I said, "But tonight we party in...Bris­bane! " They all knew, but they forgave me because I got out of it so fucking slick. That was pretty funny. PLAYBOY: What's your IQ? KROEGER: One hundred thirty. I took an IQ test during Psychology 20 in high school.

PLAYBOY: Haven't you lost a few IQ points since then?

KROEGER: Do you know the difference between intelligence and wisdom? Intel­ligence can be learned out of a book, but wisdom can be learned only through experience, right? Two bulls are stand­ing at the top of a hill, looking down at all the cows. The young bull says, "Let's run down there and fuck the two best-looking cows we can find." The older bull says, "Why don't we just walk down there and fuck them all?" That's wisdom.

A candid conversation with Nickelback's redneck front wan about leading rock's most popular (and hated) band, sewing time and being "a iva Ik ing penis"

/ still like a little bit of violence. I like wrestling with

my friends. I like

getting smacked in the face

now and again. It lets you

know you're still alive.

I'm just an absolute melody ivhore. I love Elton John, the Beatles. Bob Marley is one of my favorites.