BOB SEGER VS. THE PLATINUM PARANOIA
The night was clear and the moon was yellow and the leaves came tumbling down.—"Stagolee" It's practically impossible to write about Bob Seger and not begin with his unflinching vision of the American night—a time when the ground is cool, the maiden moon is full and weary rock 'n rollers "want to dream like a young man with the wisdom of an old man."
BOB SEGER VS. THE PLATINUM PARANOIA
(Will Nothing Stop It?)
by Patrick Goldstein
The night was clear and the moon was yellow and the leaves came tumbling down.—"Stagolee"
It's practically impossible to write about Bob Seger and not begin with his unflinching vision of the American night—a time when the ground is cool, the maiden moon is full and weary rock 'n rollers "want to dream like a young man with the wisdom of an old man." Consider yourself forewarned.
Seger, never a guy to offer a complex reason when a simple one will do, says he was first bewitched by rock because "you get to set your own hours."
The Motor City's most enduring hero since Ty Cobb is sitting, head thrown back, in the rear of a consumptive old Cadillac limousine. We're headed for Indianapolis, where Seger (who is just as conversant in Midwestern plane schedules as he is about the Tigers' pennant hopes) assures us there's a 2 a.m. flight to Detroit.