BOB SEGEER: Beautiful (Maybe), Loser (No Way)

One just can’t help but wonder why Bob Seger hasn’t given up and retired to a smoother life, like entertaining his dogs, friends and relatives with a Yamaha guitar through Michigan’s long winter nights.

That question seems unthinkable while staring the singer-songwriter in the face. He is radiating a large smile, a facial glow that is a mixture of dashing amiability and the good-times enthusiasm of a young boy.

The enthusiasm stems from his latest opportunity to carry the soulful Seger style to a national audience via an appearance on the Midnight Special, his new album, Beautiful Loser, and a cross-country tour with BachmanTurner Overdrive. Seger has found a crisp, steam-rolling combination with his Silver Bullet Band, polishing to a fine lustre his own brand of Detroit rock ‘n’ roll. It’s a mixture of riotous tunes reminiscent of ’60’s hits like “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” and “Heavy Music,” and lyrical ballads that display the thoughtful and fluid side of Seger’s writing.

Through the years, Seger’s musis cianship has varied. On LP’s, he hasplayed keyboards, blues harp, and i straight and slide guitar. Live, he uses only his most impressive instrument— his voice. It grunts, growls and roars with the heavy rockers, but also can lay back into a hoarse smoothness similar to a Kenny Rogers with more depth.

Still, we asked Seger to talk about the drive that has kept him moving through a career of near-misses at stardom.

“I can only theorize because I think it’s dangerous to get too deep into why you do what you do,” Seger responds while cradling a cup of coffee in his hand at my dining room table. “I had a lousy childhood. I wasn’t very happy. I think the whole thing has provided an outlet for the aggressiveness in myself. It’s obviously somewhat glamorous. Maybe I feel I was slighted when I was young and didn’t get dnough attention or something.”

That drive for “attention” has made Seger, now nearly 30, a stalwart of rock and roll endurance. The man has sung in teen clubs to girls in padded bras and mini skirts, to Coke-sipping guys in white levis as well as dope-toking, boogie-down crowds of later years. He has cranked out eight albums and hit after regional hit in Detroit. Encouraged by favorable critical response, he has sought a national following, but always found it elusive. For more than a decade, Bob Seger has been on the rise.

But with predictions of stardom always in the air, why is it Seger’s following has tended to be regional? Many folks claim he has been plagued with bad luck or perhaps bad business sense. Horror tales of lost royalties and record companies folding under initially hot-selling discs abound. Apropriately, Seger’s original idea for the cover of Beautiful Loser' was a picture of a token on a Monopoly board.

“The idea was that the record business was a Monopoly game and I was excluded,” he explains. “The title, though, is from a book by Leonard Cohen. A beautiful loser is an underachiever. The character in the title song is a person who could have his own identity but doesn’t because he doesn’t strive for it. I strive pretty hard. If I fail, I don’t think it’s because I don’t try.”

Seger ended up changing the cover," hoping to dispel the notion he was its subject. One cut, however, is directly aimed at his frustrations with rock’s rating game. It’s a basic rocker called "(I’m Goin’ To) Katmandu.”

“Katmandu is in Nepal,” Seger says as another grin grows on his face. “It’s a city at the base of the Himalayan Mountains. It’s the highest city—elevation wise—in the world. They also smoke hash. It’s ldgal there—one of the most God-forsaken places on earth. It’s a bit .of a spoof on ‘Hey man when is it goin’ to happen for me and if it doesn’t, I’m gettin’ out of here!’ ”

Would anything change if Seger gained the status that both critics and promoters claim he has deserved for years? He pauses for about three seconds and says:

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“If you’re making money, people expect more from you. I have no doubt that if I begin making money—a lot of money—there’s going to be a lot of pressure to continue doing it. The American ideal is if you’re making money, you are successful. There’s the critical praise, though, which I regard higher, because it makes you feel like you’re doing something worthwhile.”

“I don’t ever want to find myself... living on the top of some mountain in L.A. in a house that rents for $1,700 a month. I don’t want to be in a situation where I have: to keep making tlW bucks so I can stay up there living on the mountain. I want'to be able to enjoy listening to the music I make—number one criteria. If I can’t, I won’t record.”

The sun has set and Seger begins a late night cruise on one of Detroit’s freeways. He will go to a tyar for a few minutes? then home to his place outside Detroit’s metropolitan area. For Seger, there’s a significance to the sound of pavement slipping away beneath the tires of the car.

“Being on the road, I don’t know, it’s strange,” he says. “When you’ve done it as long as I have, you get an affection for it. I don’t know if I could live without being in a car at night, having to go somewhere and having to travel.”

“Initially, I set my goals very, very high,” he says. “I wanted to be better than the Beatles, a more soulful singer than James Brown arid write deeper lyrics than Bob Dylan. When I was 23, 24 and 25, these were my goals. I wanted to be number one in the world. As I’ve gotten older, I just want to do my best, what I’m capable of doing, without blowing my mind away doing it.”