RAMBLE ON: "Like a Rock" by Bob Seger

Since my pop-deprived childhood left me so far behind, my introduction to a whole lot of music was Weird Al parodies, and since Weird Al only had so many records, I went looking for more radio DJ parodies online, once I had the internet, which expanded my knowledge base exponentially. (I first learned of the OMC song “How Bizarre” via a song parody about Mike Tyson called “I Bit His Ear.” I laughed at a song called “Middle Aged Waistline” which I would later become more familiar with in its original version, “Baba O’Riley” by The Who.)

One of the funniest to me, one I can still recite completely from memory, was for a song I definitely already knew, “Like a Rock” by Bob Seger. It went:

                Buy a truck! Keep this country great!

                Buy a truck! Get a big rebate!

                Buy a truck! You’ll probably get laid!

                If you buy a truck!

This was a revelatory song parody for me. It didn’t just change my opinion of the song; it told me what my opinion of the song already was. All these joke lyrics (“Buy a truck! A four-wheel drive S-10! Buy a truck! Prove that you’re a man!!”) were just telling you what “Like a Rock” was actually about: buying trucks. Perhaps it meant something else in 1986 when it was first released, but by the time a teenage Todd first got the Internet, Chevrolet had destroyed its original intent and beaten it into the ground with its eternally-running TV ad campaign, which is all anyone will associate the song with from now on. All that Seattle DJ/song parodist Bob Rivers did was turn the subtext into text. “Like a Rock” is about soft-focus shots of big ol’ trucks flying through clouds of dirt, hard-working blue-collar Americans who do stuff with their hands, and the implicit appeal to patriotism and masculinity and the ways they can be supported through rampant consumerism.

Anyway, “Like a Rock” is obviously on my mind because my colleague Pat Finnerty is campaigning for Chevy to bring it back (instead of their current ad song, the unlistenable “Chevrolet” by Dustin Lynch and villain-arc speedrunner Jelly Roll). It’s also on my mind after reading Niko Stratis’s memoir “The Dad Rock That Made Me a Woman,” which has put dad-rock on my mind in general. My esteemed co-host Lina argues that Springsteen’s “Glory Days” is the quintessential dad-rock song, a basically unassailable take. But while Springsteen’s entire catalog is canon for the genre, I’d argue that Bob Seger is the quintessential dad-rock artist. Stratis has a lot of thoughts on what dad-rock actually is, but she argues that earnest masculinity and traditional instruments are important to its definition, but that dad-rock’s key trait is wisdom, wisdom hard-learned through a lifetime of bad experiences.

This makes Seger more equipped than any other, since Seger gives the impression of being born old. Seger became a star the hard way, through relentless touring, a road act that slowly built up a massive fanbase despite album after album that failed to sell. By the time that his ninth album Night Moves and, more importantly, the concert album Live Bullet finally broke him through in 1976, he was a weathered veteran at the ripe old age of 31. If he seems even older than that, it’s because he was already pining for his lost youth; all his biggest songs are about the past – “Still the Same,” “Old Time Rock and Roll,” “Against the Wind,” “Night Moves.” Even “Turn the Page,” a rare present-tense hit, carries the burdens of a misspent life chasing stardom on the road. (1968’s “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man,” his only pre-stardom hit, is also the only song in the Seger canon where he sounds youthful and energetic.)

Ten years after his breakthrough, he releases “Like a Rock,” one of his biggest hits, and I could be persuaded that it’s the most quintessentially Seger song in his discography. It’s a perfect song; no other song could do what it does better than “Like a Rock” does it. I’m not a huge fan. I don’t think Seger die-hards hold it in particularly high esteem either, compared to its prominence, and I don’t think it’s just the commercials (although the commercials did ruin it, let’s be clear). The first problem is that it’s just a really long hang, man. A full six minutes of mid-tempo wistfulness with a guitar solo that seems to last for three eternities, it’s a lot. Also, there’s a huge difference between the sound of 1976 and the sound of 1986. Ad execs picked “Like a Rock” out as their big campaign song for a reason; it’s just too slick. Bob Seger’s big appeal was his killer live show, but no song of his (except “Shakedown,” which doesn’t even count as a Seger song really) sounds more canned.

I think the Boomers get a bad rap these days, but I get annoyed when I listen to the Boomer rock of the late ‘80s, which was overwhelmingly huge. People think that 1986 was all about Madonna and Prince and “Sledgehammer” and Janet Jackson’s Control but the hits of 1986 were overwhelmingly bad. A lot of it that can be blamed on the Boomers’ sheer outsized demographic advantage; there were simply too many of them. Hence, we have a lot of music from 1986 to 1989 about being old, either subtextually or quite literally in “Like a Rock”’s case. Seger reminisces about his youth; he was strong, like a rock, standing boldly and sweating in the sun with steady hands and clear eyes. His walk had purpose! Presumably he doesn’t anymore, although he can still scream and holler as good as he ever could (“And I STOOOOOOOD arrow straight!!”)  As I get older, I find complaining about getting older more and more obnoxious, and I’ve vowed to never do it, even though I’m not a fan of aging either. When I hear “Like a Rock,” I almost get annoyed. Get over yourself, Bob Seger, take off the nostalgia goggles. You probably weren’t as lean and solid as you thought you were at age 18, and a lot of that old time rock-and-roll stank.

I’ve seen “Like a Rock” pop up in one other place, 2005’s The Weather Man, in which a bland TV personality (portrayed by a horribly miscast Nicolas Cage, who couldn’t play bland with a gun to his head) confronts his own inner shallowness and empty life. In one scene, he tries to explain to his dying father (an also somewhat miscast Michael Caine) why he compared him to Bob Seger at his tribute ceremony, and they sit there listening to all six minutes of “Like a Rock” which Cage hopes will convey the depth of his respect for him. It completely fails, the diffident Caine sitting there completely unmoved; it’s yet another humiliation for Cage’s character, that the Chevy truck song of all damn things is the most meaningful tribute he can think of. Then again, what better song to play for someone nearing the end of their life, with only memories to look back on? Seger more or less disappeared after “Like a Rock,” his last grand hurrah (unless you count “Shakedown,” which, again, you should not). In a better world (one without truck commercials), I could actually see this as a fitting send-off, a song for the end credits. Maybe that’s how it will be seen again, once the last ‘90s kid forgets about Chevy truck ads. I guess that’s a pretty good way to remember someone. After all, dad-rock and roll never forgets.