They are the most unfashionable rock band since Hootie and the Blowfish, but Nickelback have done well this year. That's 'well' as in millions of LP sales, a bona fide 'big hit' ('How You Remind Me') and now, a tour of the nation's arenas.
If ever a sound was suited to the cavernous anonymity of Wembley it would be this Canadian four-piece's brand of regurgitated metal. Led by Chad Kroeger, a man who is to grunge what Michael Bolton was to classic soul - and we're not talking just hairstyles - they run the full gamut of stadium rock clichés, from the legs akimbo stances to the arsenal of fireworks to the bassist's white Stetson. The average Nickelback number is a Frankenstein concoction of Nirvana, Stiltskin and The Spin Doctors. In short, the perfect accompaniment to a hot dog, a diet coke, a fold down seat and a lighter for the slow ones.
But, for all their sins, it's difficult to dislike these guys. Like a pub band who've wandered mistakenly through the stage door, they seem genuinely in awe of their success and revel in every single moment. Let's face it, who wouldn't want to knock out a few power chords and let off some firecrackers before a sellout crowd. Kroeger even speaks endearingly in the third-person - getting us to shout "Nickelback F*cking Rock" before taking photos for the benefit of any potential grandchildren as proof of his onetime dudeness.
Their concert formula is simple enough. One identikit number follows another and whenever the action begins to lag the crew simply let off another explosion, often, tellingly, in mid song. The effects man is trigger happy like Jerry Bruckheimer and the crowd lap it up. Kroeger, however, hits the nail on the head when he exclaims, "It looks like a rock concert. It sounds like a rock concert. But it don't smell like one." Nickelback ultimately deal in a type of virtual, irony-free rock that's pure entertainment with little added substance.
For the encore the stools come out, and we're treated to an acoustic version of 'Hero' from the Spiderman soundtrack. They then play the first verse of THE HIT before strapping on their electric guitars and milking the moment for all it's worth. The final explosions, like the amplifiers, are turned up to eleven, and the crowd file out in orderly fashion ten minutes later.
Hold onto those photos Chad, you might need them sooner than you think.
