Dallas There's something undeniably poignant about an arena full of 50- and 60-somethings singing Against the Wind together: "It seems like yesterday/But it was long ago ..."
Catapulting them back to their youth, with the whole world in front of them, limitless possibilities on the horizon, but a tune now sung by those who have lived, loved and learned -- wiser, perhaps, but willing to give anything for a moment to return to those carefree days. Going home again may not be feasible, but, for just a little while, anything was possible.
Pathos might not be the paramount expectation of a Bob Seger show, but Saturday night at the American Airlines Center, the 66-year-old rocker and his crackerjack backing band (the immortal Silver Bullet Band) injected a startling amount of feeling into a two-hour set that often felt like a go-for-broke revue. Seger, clad in all black and sporting a sweatband for much of his performance, is the last of a fading breed: The rock 'n' roll everyman, the kind of relatable average Joe who writes a few songs, gets lucky with some hits and builds a four-decade career out of vividly capturing slices of life.
Touring in support of his latest compilation, Ultimate Hits: Rock and Roll Never Forgets, Seger, in his first Dallas show in four years, ripped through an efficiently paced set list, scarcely stopping for any between-song banter -- often, he simply tossed out a few words of introduction and let the Silver Bullet Band take over -- knocking out over 20 songs in two hours.
The hits were plentiful: The Fire Down Below; Mainstreet; Ramblin Gamblin Man; Turn the Page and Katmandu were aired out, with the scorching players -- drummer Don Brewer, bassist Chris Campbell, guitarist Kenny Greenberg, saxophone hero Alto Reed and guitarist Jim Brown, augmented with a trio of back-up singers and the punchy quartet of Motor City Horns -- delivering a ferocious display of skill.
Seger also inserted a few covers into the line-up, 'cause hey, why not? Frequently, they felt a bit livelier than his own material; Nutbush City Limits was thrilling in its raw power, as was Little Richard's Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey! (Going Back to Birmingham). The audience, of course, made beelines for the beer sales during the more unfamiliar cuts, preferring to return en masse for sing-alongs to staples like We've Got Tonight.
The set-up was elegant in its simplicity: A red curtain as backdrop, nary a video screen or pyro display in sight. The focus was, as it had been back in the '70s, the music. Seger's thick, valiant voice has aged well (although certain songs, like Mainstreet, for instance, have been transposed down to accommodate a slowly eroding vocal range) and his stage presence is endearingly straightforward -- a few fist pumps, an awkward shuffle not unlike watching your father dancing at a backyard barbecue.
The music industry rarely builds 'em like Bob anymore, durable and dependable, and capable of maintaining a successful, multi-decade career. Short on flash, but long on songs that evoke a time and a place (and a way of living) that now exists only in the memories of those who piled into the AAC Saturday night. That Old Time Rock 'n' Roll is getting harder and harder to find, and our culture is the poorer for it.
