He wants to dream like a young man
With the wisdom of an old man

Standing in the bathroom at the shrink today I was shocked.  That guy in the full-length mirror.  That was me.  My hair had finally decided to give up the ghost, not only had most of it disappeared, but the gray was unmistakable.  But worse was my skin.  It no longer had the smoothness of a baby’s bottom.  It wasn’t quite rugged, but it had crevices, my life was more than half over.  Where did it all go?

Funny thing about getting older.  You do get wiser.  Shit, I’d never want to go back to college.  I’d never like to revisit any of it.  Not without knowing what I know now.  It’s so great when things finally come together, when you start to get yourself.  But it happens too close to the end.  And the questions?  They keep poppin’ up.  Part of me still believes I’m twenty three.  But then I start to run and my legs feel like lead.  There’s so much I still want to do, but so much I’ve missed.  Oh, I got married, but I never had children.  And the latest research shows birth defects come not from older women’s eggs, but older men’s sperm.  This is my life.  How did I do?  Was I asleep too long?  Shit, I’m still wrestling with so much, do I have to be ushered out so soon?

It doesn’t seem that long ago I graduated from college.  Funny how it’s just like "The Graduate".  You’re at loose ends, you’ve got no clue.  I dealt with the sense of loss by going record shopping at Sam Goody’s.  And over in the corner, amidst hundreds of cut-outs, I found Bob Seger’s "Back In ’72".  I played it.  Not that I got it.  It had been reviewed so highly seemingly only months before, but now it had been abandoned.  Still, there was this one song that penetrated me, that I played over and over.  "Turn The Page".

And then I left home.

That’s what you’ve got to do.  I feel sorry for those who’ve grown up in the metropolis, with no need to move on.  But you can’t really find out who you are until you cut all ties and try to start over somewhere else.  Finding not only your digs, but your social group.  Building your life, as opposed to continuing to reside in your parents’.  And, after two years of loose ends, skiing for a living, more like flipping burgers for a living, I found myself in L.A.  Going to law school.  It was great to live in a major radio market.  With five rock stations.  There was the choice of soft rock KNX.  And exploratory KROQ.  And hard rock KWST.  But we all started in the middle of the dial in ’76, at KMET and KLOS.  And in the heat of the summer certain songs started pounding out of the radio.  Stuff from Bob Seger’s "Live Bullet".  He’d been around forever, I’d even bought an album and had given up.  But suddenly, with this live greatest hits album, his career came alive.

Up with the sun, gone with the wind
She always said I was lazy
Leavin’ my home, leavin’ my friends
Runnin’ when things get too crazy
Out to the road, out ‘neath the stars
Feelin’ the breeze, passin’ the cars

On most live albums, the singer oversold.  He was trying to reach the back row.  But Bob Seger seemed to be in a therapy session.  Or on your couch after a couple of beers way past midnight.  Telling his story.

Now "Travelin’ Man" eventually portrays the life of a desperado, the same one the Eagles sang about.  Still, I always resonated with the freedom.  I didn’t want to be tied down, I didn’t want to sacrifice.  I wanted to experience, I wanted to live.  I always heard from my parents I was a lazy son of a bitch, but out here in the new world, trying to find out who I really was, I was fully active, I was fully alive.

That Bob Seger could get it so wrong year after year in the studio but get it exactly right on stage surprised me.  After the above lyrics, more of the instruments came in, there wasn’t only the wispy organ, there was a full tilt boogie band.  That might have been from third-rate Detroit, but didn’t give a shit.  They weren’t citified, not all slick like their Angeleno brothers, but these guys in the Silver Bullet Band knew how to ROCK!

And halfway through the song, Bob hung back, the drummer pounded, and the band worked out.  And suddenly, in the height of the break, the groove changed.  They sneaked into a whole new number.  One we’d heard in its studio version on the radio now and again the year before.  But instead of being poised, this "Beautiful Loser" had the feel of a bumpkin beaming on a country day.  Of a come from behind local winning the U.S. Open.  Of a band denied their spot on the national stage for so long finally claiming it.  Yes, when Bob Seger and the Sliver Bullet Band launched into "Beautiful Loser" you smiled on the inside, you were with them, you shared the joy of their long-postponed success.  When the crowd cheers when Bob starts to sing the words you tingle, you’ve been there, when you know every note your favorite act plays.

Beautiful loser
Never take it all
‘Cause it’s easier
And faster when you fall

Everybody starts out playing to win.  But when sometime in their twenties they realize how hard it is to succeed, to fulfill their dreams, they give up.  They make internal excuses.  They become fans as opposed to players.  They become shadows of their former selves.  With no schoolmarm to push them, and out of their parents’ sight, they’re lost and broken.  No, you just can’t have it all.  But you’re entitled to quite a bit.  But you’ve got to fight for it.

Suddenly, with the release of "Night Moves", primed by the success of "Live Bullet", Bob Seger was the biggest act in the land.  He dominated the airwaves.  And every time I heard the live version of "Turn The Page" on the radio I never forgot where it started for me, "Back In ’72".

They say that Bob Seger doesn’t want "Back In ’72" released on CD because he doesn’t like his vocals.  But I never noticed a problem in the title cut.  The kind of swagger rock absent from the scene today except for the Black Crowes.  The kind of stuff that used to pour out of the jukebox at the bar after work and on weekends, when America cut loose from its factory jobs.  There’s a power and a soul that’s irresistible.  And there’s a great cover of Free’s legendary "Stealer", so legendary that if you’ve never heard it buy it immediately on iTunes, to hear why Paul Kossoff’s death was a tragedy.  But the piece de resistance is "Turn The Page".

On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha
You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone song
You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before

But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do

When you’re riding sixteen hours and there’s nothing there to do

And you don’t feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through

Here I am, on the road again
There I am, on the stage
Here I go, playing star again
There I go, turn the page

And you wonder why all the musicians do drugs.  You’re adored by twenty thousand people and then you get in the bus with the same four assholes you’ve known your whole life, onto a new city to start all over.  "Turn The Page" is the best song about the road I’ve ever heard.  Because it’s got a sense of desperation.  Bob doesn’t know why he’s riding the bus.  Should he give up?  At this point, in 1973, almost nobody was listening.  It’s like hearing Elton John working out in his flat in London before "Your Song".  Bob had all the talent, all the greatness, but somehow it all didn’t matter.  You can hear the fatigue in his voice.  He’s so tired, he can’t even be desperate.

Metallica did a great cover.

And the live version smokes.

But the best take is still the original, on "Back In ’72".  And this week, I play it on the Rhinocast.  You should hear it.

Bob Seger quit the road.  To have a life.  He got it right, as opposed to all those who died living the rock and roll lifestyle.  His latter day career is marred by too many ballads, but for years he rocked.  And when I hear that rock I’m reminded of who I once was.  And wonder if my journey has been the right one.  Whether I’ve got a blind spot and am really the beautiful loser.  Whether I’m just not old enough to understand it, to get what life is about.  I’m still listening to records to find out what life is about.

You can subscribe to the Rhinocast by searching on "lefsetz" in the iTunes Music Store. Or you can go directly to the Rhino site and listen/take it/download it there, Rhino, hold down the "control" key to download on a Mac.  My bit about "Back In ’72" begins at 17:57.