BOB SEGER & THE SILVER BULLET BAND: "Old Time Rock & Roll"
Nah, I'm just messin' with you. I hate that freakin' song.
But listing it here gives me an opportunity to tell you about the one time--the one and only time--when hearing this awful record actually amused me. It was some time in the '90s, I think. My niece Mallory was flying in from her home in England, with a scheduled arrival in Newark around 11:30 am, maybe a little later. An additional flight from Newark to her destination here in Syracuse was prohibitively expensive, so my parents wanted to meet Mallory in Newark and drive her back to the 'Cuse. But they needed a driver. That would be me.
Newark Airport was about a four-hour drive from where my parents lived in North Syracuse, and we didn't know what kind of traffic we might hit. We also knew we'd need to make occasional pit stops, and my parents would want to stop for breakfast somewhere along the way. Planning in all this extra time, we knew we had to get on the road before six.
Grumble.
I wasn't much of a morning person, but I knew my responsibilities. I went to bed early, set an alarm for some ungodly wee wee hour, and tried to ease my way into dreamland.
I couldn't sleep.
Anxious? Nervous about the long drive and/or oversleeping and running late to get to Newark on time? Yeah, likely all of the above. The tossing. The turning. The frustration of restless hours passing, my weary body on a collision course with a 4:30 wake-up call. My attempts to relax were futile. I was already--still--wide awake when the clock radio sounded its clarion call at 4:30.
That damned piano intro.
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!
Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!
OH, YOU'VE GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
Just take those old records off the shelf!
Man, I wanted to go all Incredible Hulk on my poor little clock radio right then and there. I was too tired to summon the energy. My wife clicked it off on my behalf. I remained in bed for a couple of seconds, struck by the mocking nature of my circumstance.
And then I laughed. If the universe was gonna be that cruel to me, and insult me by bidding me wakey-wakey to the tune of a record I so absolutely loathe, well, I'd best meet the universe head on. Up. Shower. Coffee. Parents. Highway. Newark. Bring it.
We made it to Newark and back without incident, and in plenty of time. I should have been exhausted, but my super powers kicked in to see us through. I slept soundly the next night.
On our radio show This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl, we had a lot of fun making Bob Seger into a cartoon bogeyman for years and years. When we had a promotion to allow listeners the chance to program the music for an episode of TIRnRR, one of the strict ground rule requirements was NO BOB SEGER SONGS! When we did a year-long challenge called The Hundred Hollies Initiative, which required us to commit to playing one hundred different tracks by The Hollies over the course of a single calendar year, the sword-of-Damocles penalty if we fell short of our goal was that we'd have to play that execrable "Old Time Rock & Roll" thing as punishment. We played one hundred and one different Hollies songs, just to be sure, and our fanbase sighed with relief.
Some time back, I decided the Seger joke had run its course, and we shocked our audience by opening a show with Seger's great "Get Out Of Denver." Devils that we are, we prefaced that track with the dreaded piano plinking of "Old Time yadda yadda," which we immediately interrupted with a vow of, "NO, we're still not playing that!"
Seger has made occasional (if infrequent) appearances on our playlists since then. Some of his stuff is pretty good. I liked "Night Moves" when it was new, and I still don't hate it; I just don't feel like playing it. "Rock And Roll Never Forgets" is okay. "Hollywood Nights" and "Get Out Of Denver" are perfectly fine. What little I've heard of Seger's elusive '60s material sounds intriguing, and I'd be willing to give that stuff a fair listen if it ever becomes available again.
But "Old Time Rock & Roll" ain't got the same soul. It's empty bravado. Worse, it's smug and reactionary, forced and unconvincing, and it is far, far removed from the genuine excitement of old-time rock 'n' roll, from Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, King Elvis I. It's Pat Boone, albeit at least without the inherent racism. It's fake. It was released in 1979, but it is so perfectly suited for the overwhelmingly artificial, superficial vibe of the '80s. Its subsequent pop-culture ubiquity via Tom Cruise in Risky Business just adds to its toxicity. It is not, and will never be, The Greatest Record Ever Made. Its only redeeming quality is that it's not as horrifyingly torturous as Seger's "We've Got Tonight."
But. For one moment in time, it made me laugh. Even the worst can be worth something sometimes. Now please: just leave that old record on the shelf. I need to get some sleep.
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