Working on Some Night Moves

Bob Seger turns 69 today. It's been a while since I had y'all sit back and listen to some lyrics, so why not today.

While not complex or inspiring deep thought, Seger always had a way to hit the nail on the head. Whether it's the anthem to us baby boomers and our view of music "Old Time Rock n' Roll," or the life of an outsider on the road in "Turn The Page," Seger takes a familiar situation and makes it instantly personal. It's so easy to understand, because in one way or another, we've all had those moments in life.

Which brings us to today's lyric lesson. Can you remember hearing "Night Moves" for the first time? I do, and I remember thinking... what? Is he really talking about what I think he's talking about? Remember this was 1976, and songs about sex weren't really being played on Top 40 radio.

"I was a little too tall

Could've used a few pounds

Tight pants points hardly reknown

She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes

And points all her own sitting way up high

Way up firm and high"

Perfectly descriptive, setting the mood right off the top.

"Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy

Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy

Workin' on mysteries without any clues

Workin' on our night moves"

"Workin' on mysteries without any clues." Without just saying it, can you describe teenage sex better than that?

"And we'd steal away every chance we could

To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods

I used her as she used me

But neither one cared

We were gettin' our share

Workin' on our night moves"

Hormones. I guess they unraveled the mysteries... along with some clothes.

"And oh the wonder

We felt the lightning

And we waited on the thunder

Waited on the thunder"

As we all know, sometimes there was thunder, sometimes... eh.

 "Ain't it funny how the night moves

When you just don't seem to have as much to lose

Strange how the night moves

With autumn closing in"

Do we look back on those days with fondness, melancholy or embarrassment? Mostly I think, as a rite of passage. Lessons learned, memories half forgotten, mysteries solved.

Ain't it strange how the night moves?

Words and music by Bob Seger, all rights reserved.
.