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Guitar One - April 2003
'The Revival Of Rock'
Chad Kroeger is playing bass. I travel thousands of miles from the East Coast to the West Coast, hop on and off a handful of planes, feel my way through the congested city of Vancouver, search desperately for a tiny place called Greenhouse Studios on the outskirts of town, and spend days preparing to do a major story on Kroeger in a big-time guitar magazine. But when I finally track him down, he's sitting at an inexpensive studio board playing bass. It's not the ideal introduction to a story that purports to paint a picture of Kroeger as a leader in rock 'n' rolls new guitar rival. But then, you'd be interested to know, it's apparent that Kroeger is not the ideal bass player, either.
"If I'm in a roomful of bass players, I'm a guitarist," he smiles, looking up from his fret hand. "But if I'm in a roomful of guitarists, I'm a songwriter; definitely a songwriter."
Kroeger is playing bass because he's tracking a demo, not for Nickelback, but for Faith Hill, the country-pop singer out of Nashville. Kroeger's such an in-demand writer now -having penned smash hits for the Spider-Man soundtrack, the latest Santana album, and of course, his own band - that he's receiving offers like these to compose for some of pop's hottest artists.
The mood in the studio is light. Behind the desk, a few girlfriends, including Kroeger's own, hang out on a leather couch talking softly. Tasha - Ray Evin, the 17-year-old vocalist he enlisted to sing on the demo who herself plays guitar and sings in a Maverick - signed band named Lillix, rehearses lyrics quietly in the corner.
At work, Kroeger puts the pieces of his demo together hurriedly yet with the skill and intuition of an expert craftsman. Prior to my arrival, he'd already laid the guitar tracks down, a handful of aggressive acoustic and open-tuned electric strums. Like Nickelback's best work, the song is brisk and simple, with a couple of trademark "Chadisms," which we'll get into later. With Joe the engineer and Alex, or "Ack", the Pro Tools guy at his side, Kroeger's got what he needs to do the job.
It takes him an hour or so to nail a fairly easy bass line, not because he can't play, but because he labours painfully over the string vibrations and intonation. when he gets the bass line done, he begins reanalyzing the drums - played yesterday by a hired hand - which now seem a bit lacking. He decides to throw some drums down on his own. An hour later, he emerges. Listening back, he concludes that the rhythm track needs a little layering. He picks up the Egg.
"You see this?" he asks me, his eyes twinkling as he holds up an egg-shaped percussion instrument and shakes it like a maraca. It looks like an ordinary egg and sounds like a shaker. "You see this?" He moves it closer to me. There's masking tape around the egg with the words, "11.7 million served." "We've used this egg on every record we've done," he says, "including the Santana and Spider-Man tracks, which means this egg has been heard on almost 12 million records." Everyone in the room smiles. "And if Faith Hill puts this track on her upcoming 'Greatest Hits' album, you gotta think it'll be on a few million more!" He escapes again, off to lay down another "egg" track.
Chad Kroeger has become a master of multitasking. In the few hours I've been watching him, he's laid down multiple instrumental tracks, worked on arranging the song, rehearsed lyrics and vocal technique with Tasha, and served as host for the evening. As this Saturday night grows later, other things need to be taken care of as well, including dinner, this G1 interview, and packing to leave for Los Angeles first thing in the morning for an appearance at the American Music Awards. Heap on that the fact that Kroeger's recovering from laser eye surgery (which he had yesterday) and is squaring things away with a brand-new house, involving tons of contractors who telephones repeatedly. Clearly, the man's overworked. And after 18 months of touring in support of Silver Side Up (Roadrunner), this is supposed to be Kroeger's "vacation".
Perhaps that's why his drink of choice tonight is something he calls "hot-rodded coffee": a mug of hot joe souped up with a little ...oh, you know. Four of the five of us who are sucking down this warm libation go through a full gallon of "you know" in a few short hours in the studio. Not only does it taste good, it sure does help Kroeger work fast. "Ack!" he says, beckoning his studio assistant. "More hot-rodded coffee for my friends!"
It also seems to distract him. Though he's got deadlines to meet and a girlfriend to get to, he happily cavorts with anyone and everyone who comes into the studio. We spend lots of time veering off into random discussions, one in particular involving the new Audioslave album, which he seems to enjoy. We listen to specific cuts on the disc over a booming sound system, and Kroeger describes in detail what he loves and what he'd change, from guitar lines to Chris Cornell's vocal inflections. His suggestions are excellent, and his rationale for change is well-reasoned and considered. His critique is not just gratuitous blather. It reveals an artist with a finely nuanced and minutely detailed aesthetic, who hears things in his head - an extra syllable, a melody tweak, an extra note on a chord - that only the most focused and gifted songwriters could bring forth.
As Kroeger marches toward the completion of this demo, I begin to get a sense of who he is and what makes him so successful. In a way, he's a visionary, a flourishing talent entering the prime of his creativity. But he's not a visionary in the sense of seeing some sort of some sort of Big Picture. Rather, Kroeger sees his own music, his own melodies, and his own notes with the colour and clarity of a digital camera. He hears and feels and knows in his head what makes a song work, what will give a chance to transmute from a mundane verse-chorus formula into a magical chestnut to which the world will respond. I also begin to understand why Kroeger finds himself front and centre of the new wave of hard rock.
After Chad gets Tasha ready to lay down some vocals in the booth, we order some dinner and retire to the studio's loft. By this time it's late, but thanks to those hot-rodded hoes, Kroeger's still energized. Time to roll tape.
Where do you think rock guitar is headed these days, Chad?
I'm sorry, but I have no idea the direction of rock guitar. The funny thing is I don't even call myself a guitar player. I don't listen to guitar sounds. I listen to drum more than guitar sounds, and I listen to songwriting more than anything else. The general public isn't gonna go out and buy guitar sounds. They're gonna go out and but a record that gets stuck in their heads. When the guitar melody is contagious, then you've got something interesting.
But don't you feel like Nickelback is helping to influence the sound of rock guitar these days, at least on the radio?
It would be crazy for me to think that I've influenced anybody to do anything! I just do what I do in Nickelback. I know that I've personally had an influence on Theory Of A Deadman because I've produced them. But they have their own identity, just like Default, who I also produced. If I come up with an idea for those bands, it's gonna sound a little like Nickelback, because I'm the primary songwriter in that band. But do I think I've influenced Linkin Park or Incubus? Those bands could care less we fell off the face of the planet.
What have you learned from producing bands?
I've learned a lot from Theory. I know their recording sounds better than Silver Side Up. Sonically, it's one the best albums you could hear. They drop down their tuning instead of fretting a chord in an unusual way. When we recorded the guitars, we really wanted the tunings open. Whenever you let the string ride open, you're gonna get the most volume, the most low end.
I might tune things a little differently on the new Nickelback record, so that we get the best guitar sound possible. Any time you can play an open-tuned chord, it sounds massive. Then you layer it and bang! That Theory record has some s*** on it that really smokes.
Does sounds play a big part in how effective a guitar can be?
A well-played guitar line that doesn't sound that good will always sound better than a poorly played line that's run through every EQ in the world. Listen to any Led Zeppelin records and you hear immediately that the tones aren't great. But it's still great stuff. Listen to Nazareth or CCR. Those aren't great tones, but the songwriting is phenomenal. Listen to any Beatles record and you're not gonna go, "Wow, sonically it's amazing." It's how they're laying it down on tape that makes it so cool.
How do you put your finger on a great guitar sound in the studio?
Any time I'm looking for a good sound, we try to A/B a mix. Sometimes we'll switch back and forth to a mix we really like when we're trying to do a mix of our own. If you listen, for example, to Limp Bizkit's, "Break Stuff," the guitar sounds are monstrous. Huge. You can't even hear the bass. It's all about sonic destruction. AstroCreep:2000 [White Zombie] had a great sound, too. I like really huge, overdriven, crunchy, rip-your-head-off guitars. I'm not about using the bridge pickup to get a sweet, bluesy tone with a lot of midrange. I'm more about ripping someone's head off with a good riff.
Do you have a secret way to get that?
It's got to a lot to do with how you play it. When it's perfectly tuned, you're off to a good star. If you have two guitar players, don't let the other guy play the exact same rhythm, because it won't sound as tight. As soon as you put another guy's fingers on the same line it'll sound different . People interpret the same line differently, and then you get sloppiness. You won't get it tight. That's how we get the big guitar sounds. If everything is tight on top of each other, the timing is good and the tuning is perfect, you'll get thunderous tones.
How does your gear help you achieve that sound?
Well, I've got 12 sweet PRS guitars that still blow my mind. PRS has really contributed to the sound of Nickelback. Ryan [Peake] plays Gibsons, of course, and in the studio I grab just about anything. If I can tune it down low without getting a pancake sound on the low strings, I'll play anything to achieve a certain sound. I've even played a seven-string with an EMG pickup in it, which really crushes. Live, PRS can recreate my sound better than anything I've ever played in the studio.
How does [second guitarist] Ryan Peake factor into your philosophy?
When it comes to the studio. Ryan lays down the melody lines over the top, and I do the rhythm, so we can achieve the rhythm guitar we're looking for. Whoever lays down the part has to lay it down left and right, stereo-panned and then doubled. I'll leave melody lines up to Ryan and he can do whatever he wants. We never do the same thing in the studio, Live we will, to achieve more thickness, but in the studio it's one or the other.
Has your guitar playing been influenced by the Seattle sound of the early '90's?
The one thing I did get from the whole Seattle sound was tuning down. Melvins did it first, though I wasn't a fan. Nirvana got the drop tuning from the Melvins, and Soundgarden got it from Nirvana. Soundgarden started tuning down ever further, to C and B , I loved the way it sounded - that low, deep roar. The lower you tune the slower you have to play to create this big groove to make room for that low tuning.
How did it affect you?
That was revolutionary, and it was the first thing I started experimenting with. IT exploded so fast that everyone started doing it, and everyone started learning there was a realm outside 4/4. They had these super-thick strings and they tuned down to get low end that you never heard before from a guitar.
But how do you feel about the Seattle sound? Was it inspiring?
I hate the guitar sound on every Soundgarden record. It's muddy, unclear, and the melody lines are annoying, not melodic. That's not gonna inspire me to play anything. With Nirvana, it's all about the songwriting, not the guitar tones. The songs are what get stuck in peoples. The other thing about Seattle is that the performances were setting people on fire. Not the guitar sound, really, but the live shows. [laughs] I'm saying everything wrong for a guitar magazine! Can I not comment on the guitar one more time?
For as much as so many people think that Nickelback is heavily influenced by the Seattle sound, have you ever listened to Nickelback cover CCR's "Born on the Bayou"? You'd swear that we sounded like John Fogerty. When people start throwing the grunge word around, I pull out "Born on the Bayou." There are truly more things in my head than the riffs that came out of Seattle.
But you got Rick Parasher, the producer of Pearl Jam's Ten, to produce Silver Side Up.
Anybody who isn't a fan of Nickelback will say that's why we got Rick Parasher to produce out record. But it's untrue. We wanted to do it ourselves, but our label didn't let that happen. Rick was one of the more affordable producers on the list, so we got him.
I get the feeling you've begun to resent the whole grunge tag.
It's kinda frustrating. You get that tag, and trying to lose it is impossible. You can't call us grunge. We have more Metallica influence than anything else.
Grunge is a really bad word. I think it's a critic's word that they made up because they're not smart enough to come up with another classification. Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Soundgarden. You tell me which band would have written "How You Remind Me?"
Metallica was more inspiring to you?
I was playing along to Metallica records from my earliest days as a player. I wanted my picking hand to be faster than my fretting hand and it still is. I can keep up with anybody. I can pick it faster than I can fret it. I'd listen to Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax - sit there and play to those records, and that's what you get to be: an upstroke-downstroke picker.
Did you want to be a shredder as a kid?
I don't know. I do know that if I could to back to the days when I was in high school and missed all the parties and knock-knock jokes because I was practising, I'd trade that practice for those jokes in a heartbeat. For every moment of finger-tapping I learned, I missed some good times. For me, learning that stuff was a waste of time. There's no facet of finger-tapping that helps your guitar playing at all. There are a million other things I could practice to become a better player. To sweep up and down the strings and tap up and down was just a waste. I never incorporated that into any song I ever wrote. It sounds great when Vai, Van Halen, or Satriani do it, but if I put it in some kind of song, it would sound retarded.
Has there been any downside to your incredible success?
Yeah, sure. The biggest is that we're a heavy band that didn't get introduced to the world with a heavy song, but rather a ballad. So now, four-year-old children love our songs. Now, picture this: You have a heavy rock band showing up to 40 years-old women who are bringing their eight-year-old kids to the show. And there they are getting stuck in the mosh pits in a haze of marijuana.
That success has also raised the bar for the band, right? I mean, you have to have pretty high expectations. Where do you go from here?
Expectations? If anybody's got expectations, they can go screw themselves. We've already got the brass ring. I've already achieved more already than most people can dream of. Recreating those accomplishments isn't high on my priority list. Going on tour for 18 months and having people throw shoes at us because they couldn't wait for Slipknot to get onstage? That ranks fairly low on my list. That's not a lot of fun. I'd rather go have a ton of fun writing for others, collaborating with different people, and working as a songwriter. Running a record label [604 Records] is pretty cool, too.
We know how you like to achieve your guitar sound. How do you go about writing? Do you have a scientific approach to songwriting?
There's a science to the studio, and then there's the magic. Once you start laying down the formula, harmonies you never heard, and melody guitar parts, you start creating magic. You get spices and flavours you never tasted before. "Oooh, I never thought of that," you'll say. That's when the magic starts happening. Writing a song is like building a frame of a house. You can put a frame up in a short time, but until you put up the walls and start painting, you have no idea how that house is gonna look. Suddenly, the curtains make a huge difference.
I can't imagine you sitting down and writing riffs. Do you do that?
Yeah, I do. I never write lyrics first. I let a song carve itself. Even when I come up with these great story lines for lyrics, it's not until I have a riff and a melody and the rhythm of the vocal line that I begin to write lyrics. I make them fit into a very small box.
Tell me more about the process. I think it's important that people understand how you do things.
Okay. Well, once I spit out the melody and the rhythm for the verse and chorus, then I go back and come up with lyrics. At first I just mumble out crap - whatever comes out of my mouth - and I try to make the ends rhyme. then I get four or five lines out of that and I begin to think about what they mean. Hopefully, out of that comes the story, and I come up with some finer details. What does the story feel like? Where does it take place? Now I start singing about real things, and I really get excited because I* have a direction. It's at the time I have to stay really focused to that song, otherwise I'm screwed. If I get distracted, I could lose the whole thing.
You're really in a creative groove these days, aren't you?
Yeah, the juices are really rollin'. I try to listen to what I'm writing as a fan would hear it. I put a microscope on what I'm doing. If it sounds like slough, then I'll get rid of it. Bands never do that these days. They never step away and look at it as a fan of their music would. If I write something and it sounds like I came up with it in 60 seconds, it's probably because I came up with it in 60 seconds. You have to be able to look at your own stuff critically and be willing to waste it if it's not up to par.
But all this is so second nature to you, isn't it?
It's funny. I was recently at a kitchen store, sitting down and going over plans for the kitchen in my new house. And my contractor pulled out a set of blueprints that only an architect could read. The guy who owned the placed opened up the plans and started waxing about them. He knew the diagram perfectly, even though I had no idea what he was looking at. I'm watching him look at these plans like he was walking through the house, and I said to him, "How can you look at those plans and visualize the whole house?" And he said to me, "How can you pick up a guitar and write a song?" I said, "That's a good point."