Friends, commenters, countrymen, lend me your ears: I come to bury Bob Seger, not to praise him. Surely we have moved on from his particular brand of addictive roots rock, and his attendant ear for hooks that puts most contemporary musical artists to shame. Certainly there’s no need to resurrect Bob Seger’s “Night Moves,” arguably one of the finest rock ’n’ roll songs ever written about trying to woo the fairer sex during one’s awkward adolescent years, and the nostalgic recollection of those attempts. True, the song reached number four on the Billboard Hot 100 charts in 1977; The Rolling Stone Album Guide may have referred to it as “one of rock’s most moving exercises in elegy”; and it is 100 percent unfuckwithable, whether in karaoke or on vinyl or simply driving down the highway, road sodas in hand (perhaps of the Miller variety). But none of that is as important as the passage of time, yes? So no, certainly no pressing need to once again reawaken the siren song of Seger’s finest hour and remind America of the magic it has been missing. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt. (Also, check out that official video—from 1994! Matt LeBlanc! Daphne Zuniga! Johnny fucking Galecki! Ain’t it funny how the night moves.) [Alex McLevy]