"Night Moves" by Bob Seger
Heartland Rock, baby
I was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds / Tight pants points, hardly renowned / She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes / And points of her own, sittin' way up high / Way up firm and high
I was too young to give a shit about Bob Seger. My allergies to Bruce spilled over to Bob, and the “Like A Rock” Chevy commercial getting incessantly played on TV certainly didn’t help things. I was stuck in a jazz spiral that eventually led me to Brazil.
And I’m sure Bob doesn’t care, but man, I would have turned out a totally different person in this life if I’d just been able to dig Bob Seger a little earlier. Arguably a better person too. Heartland Rock, baby. Let’s do it. “Hollywood Nights” and “Turn The Page” say more about the USA than any civics class. The man is a mountain.
Bob’s been active since 1961, his first album came out in 1969. He finally found mainstream success in 1976 with the “Live Bullet” album in the spring and the “Night Moves” album that fall. And the cool kids have been tired of him ever since.
You have to check out his early work. Like the “Smokin O.P.’s” and “Mongrel” albums. Monstrous. You have to look on YouTube, Bob seems to have pulled from release about as many albums as are out there.
Here’s him doing “If I Were A Carpenter”. Like, come on.
The man is what Silicon Valley likes to call an Iterator. For such a prolific artist, success was probably inevitable, but it was a different world back then. The sound is synonymous with America itself, but “Bob Seger” did not exist until Bob Seger willed him into existence.
Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy / Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy / Workin' on mysteries without any clues / Workin' on our night moves / Tryin' to make some front page drive-in news / Workin' on our night moves / In the summertime
It wasn’t a 60’s Chevy for me, it was an 80’s VW Rabbit. And we didn’t go to the drive-in either. Kids would get together in small-ish groups to watch movies on VHS in someone’s home, usually the basement, the rental store becoming a venue for scant random encounters. The Betamax and VHS sections were segregated. To this day I think I’ve never been to a drive-in.
It was Spielberg’s world for kids my age. Indiana Jones. The Goonies. E.T. We listened to A-ha and Terence Trent D’arby. HipHop was on it’s ascent into world domination. Shit was shiny, and everything about “Night Moves” screamed Old People Rock to me. Maybe I felt a little left out from the lack of a drive-in scene.
We weren't in love, oh no, far from it / We weren't searchin' for some pie in the sky summit / We were just young and restless and bored / Livin' by the sword
But kids always find ways to sneak around, and sneak around we did. Making out in cars is definitely a sport reserved for the young and limber. The back of a pickup truck is way more amenable, provided you aren’t sharing the bed with a bunch of tools.
A few guys I knew got cheap old vans, which was pretty obvious to my mom, who remarked about one, “he bought a van. Young men drive vans so they have a place to fuck.”
And we'd steal away every chance we could / To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods / I used her, she used me but neither one cared / We were gettin' our share
I did not have a van, I’d inherited my grandma’s Rabbit. But we still stole away every chance we could. I got to know the various parking spots along back roads in my town. It was pretty quiet out there, meth wasn’t a thing yet. Dirt road Upstate New York isn’t culturally that far away from dirt road Michigan.
And I was a sensitive kid, so I’d be lying if I said my adventures were care-free. I thought I was falling in love each time, and getting dumped and one-night-stood were pivotal wounds, merciless lessons as my guilt-ridden self learned the ropes.
By the time I turned 20 my night moves game felt like a hot rodded car with no steering wheel. I got my share but I cared too much. Which was a liability, and my attempts to care “less” were disastrous.
Workin' on our night moves / Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues / Workin' on our night moves / Mmm, and it was summertime
The riff for this song was mossy with grey hair. Being young, restless, bored and living by the sword, I ironically had no time for Bob Seger. I had no idea he was singing about people like me.
But summertime was summertime, and USA life in the 80’s and 90’s was remarkably easy and gratifying for middle class whites if you know how to appreciate it. I had to reach middle age myself before I could appreciate Bob’s brand of nostalgia.
Oh, wonderin' / Felt the lightning, yeah / And I waited on the thunder / Waited on the thunder
The Silver Bullet Band were the truest of road warriors. You can find their star on the Hollywood walk of fame at 1750 Vine St. in LA, and it might be one of the hardest-earned stars on the the Boulevard. But what would I know about that? Throughout the 90’s my head was flooded by the “Like A Rock” Chevy commercials that ran incessantly whenever I was within earshot of a TV.
I confess that I hated the sound before I knew anything about it.
Hearing songs that were 50 years old in the 80’s (we’re talking the 30’s: Duke Ellington, the Wizard of Oz and stuff by Cole Porter), it sounded dusty. Like archeology, but now here we are. The songs I grew up with have been “oldies” for 20 years, and the “oldies” I grew up hearing are now old-timey tunes.
It doesn’t matter how I feel about it, either. I remember the first time I heard “Message In A Bottle” on an oldies station and it threw me through a loop. I was just getting started in life. I still feel like I’m just getting started, but I’ve heard people in their 80’s say the same thing. Kids who are staring ahead with dread at the milestones of 20 and 30 have a lot of nice surprises in store.
I woke last night to the sound of thunder / How far off I sat and wondered? / Started hummin' a song from 1962 / Ain't it funny how the night moves? / When you just don't seem to have as much to lose / Strange how the night moves with autumn closin' in
When I sing this song, I switch the line at the end to 1992. It helps the thing sit for me:
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