Hell's Accountants: How Nickelback Bankrolled the Renaissance of Heavy Metal

In the wild, relentless odyssey that is heavy metal, the simple mention of Nickelback tends to launch self-styled purists into breathless fits of rage, like a priest spotting the Devil in the holy water. Bleeding deacons in threadbare band shirts, these unwanted gatekeepers decry the band’s hooky anthems as the antithesis of metal’s rugged ethos, branding the Canadian rockers with a scarlet letter of mainstream mediocrity. Instead, they should be pooling their resources and sending each member of Nickelback a Whitman’s sampler and a dozen roses in hushed appreciation for Nickelback’s vast contributions to the evolution of heavy metal. For hidden beneath this thick veil of scorn lies an unacknowledged truth, one that courses like lifeblood through the veins of metal history: Nickelback, signed to Roadrunner Records in 1999, unintentionally bankrolled the renaissance of modern metal.

When Nickelback unleashed Silver Side Up upon the unsuspecting masses in 2001, it wasn't just another rock album — it was a financial tsunami, washing over Roadrunner with the force of ten million copies sold worldwide. Across the globe, copies of this album flew from the stacks faster than the beleagured record store employees could stock the bins. How You Remind Me wasn't just a song; it was an anthem that crossed borders, infiltrated charts and lined pockets with more platinum than a mobster’s mistress. Its three singles quickly entered heavy rotation in rock stations across Planet Earth; at any given time between 2001 and 2003, you probably had a 50% chance of finding Nickelback on the radio within the first ten seconds of dial surfing.

This avalanche of cash from Nickelback’s commercial success was a godsend for Roadrunner, a long-standing bastion for those who liked their music like their whiskey—hella fucking brutal. Monte Conner, Roadrunner’s legendary A&R sage at the time, knew the game. The lucre from Nickelback’s radio-friendly jams meant more than just fancy cars and fat cigars. It meant power—the power to fuel the fires of metal’s more ferocious furnaces.

Conner's quarter-century tenure at Roadrunner Records marks a golden era in the annals of heavy metal but it also stamps his influence indelibly across the genre's evolving landscape. Describing his impact as merely significant would be a gross understatement; it's seismic. The bands he signed read like a who's who of metal royalty—Sepultura, Slipknot, Machine Head and Trivium, to name a few. His knack for identifying and nurturing raw talent helped catapult these bands from underground obscurity to global prominence. The albums he shepherded into existence don't just fill the shelves of enthusiasts; they've significantly shaped the sound and direction of modern metal. Bands like Death, Obituary and Deicide redefined the boundaries of death metal under his guidance, while acts like Type O Negative and Life of Agony brought a deeper, darker introspection to the genre.

In essence, Monte Conner didn't just participate in the making of metal history—he forged it with an ear finely tuned to the genre's heartbeats and an eye keenly focused on its future. His contributions continue to resonate, echoing through every chord and scream that defines today’s metal soundscape. And while he didn’t sign Nickelback (that was the legendary Ron Burman), Conner was more than happy to parlay the Canadians’ surging commercial returns into major signings in the metal underground.

Speaking to Lollipop magazine in 2004, Conner explained, "[B]y branching out and signing different types of bands (more mainstream and better selling), we are able to finance the signings of other, heavier acts. I mean, we would never be able to keep a band like Spineshank (who sells pretty decently, but not great) on the label otherwise. We offer our bands a certain amount of comfort and stability, and we’re able to do so because of the income that something like Nickelback brings in." This strategic approach enabled Roadrunner to finance and promote a slew of pivotal heavy metal releases in the wake of Silver Side Up. Among these were Killswitch Engage's Alive or Just Breathing (2002), Machine Head's Through the Ashes of Empires (2003), Trivium's Ascendancy (2005), Gojira's From Mars to Sirius (2005) and Opeth's Ghost Reveries (2005). Each of these albums not only advanced their respective subgenres but also showcased Roadrunner's commitment to diversifying and deepening its metal roster, supported financially by Nickelback's mainstream success.

Nearly twenty-five years later, Conner remains quick to hail Nickelback’s contribution to metal, telling V13 in 2023, "A lot of people don’t realise this. Nickelback was one of the best things that ever happened to metal. Because of Nickelback, it allowed Roadrunner to be successful. It opened doors and helped Roadrunner sign more bands. Nickelback helped keep Roadrunner as a dominant force.”

Yet, despite their titanic success and the doors it opened, Nickelback remain a lazy snark target for those who pride themselves on their vague notions of metal purity. These smug, foamy-mouthed critics tend to ignore the glaring sonic similarities between Nickelback’s anthems and the chart-topping hits of metal’s most successful mainstream marauders. When Nickelback teased San Quentin in 2022, the internet blinked in confused unison. Chad Kroeger and Ryan Peake revealed in an interview with WRAT that veering towards a heavier metal tone was not new ground but part of their eclectic style. "All of our records are all over the map," Kroeger mused. This was nothing new. Nickelback’s 2003 release, The Long Road, and particularly the track Because of You, smashes into listeners with all the metal hallmarks—fervent drumming, distorted guitar riffs and Kroeger’s throaty vocals—proving sometimes they can hit as hard, if not harder, than vaunted metal torch-bearers like Avenged Sevenfold or Disturbed.

While Nickelback’s role might have been an accidental boon to metal, it was a boon nonetheless. They paved golden roads that lesser-known acts marched upon toward their own battles. They brought the masses, and with them, the money that kept the metal machine thundering on. And so, as the purists sneer from their high horses, drenched in a superiority complex as thick as the stench of unwashed socks in a high school locker room, they miss the point. Nickelback, with their hooks that could catch whales and choruses that echo in the drunken singalongs of a thousand bars, are not the antichrist of metal. They are its dark horse benefactors, the unwitting patrons of a genre that thrives on the very rebellion they are accused of diluting.