Bob Seger belts out a tune Saturday at the MGM Grand Garden arena in a concert that was dominated by singalongs. Photos by Ralph Fountain. Jim "Moose" Brown, left, and Alto Reed of Bob Seger's Silver Bullet Band rev up the crowd Saturday.

He was but three songs into a long, loose-fitting set when Bob Seger strapped on a ratty black headband -- the guy was perspiring already, his skin glistening like it had reached its dew point.

The sweat was all in the service of some sizzling rock 'n' roll, bashed out as if R&B were short for rhythm and bombast.

At the MGM Grand on Saturday night, Seger and his diesel-powered pelvis begged the obvious question: What is rock 'n' roll if not a series of arch gestures -- the clenched fist punching the air to the beat; the locomotive, nonstop hips; the guitar held high, like some hard-earned trophy?

Seger embodies all these conceits and makes them his own; he's an exultant 61-year-old who still plays as if his beard were on fire.

Visceral and hot-blooded, his shows work on a cardiovascular level, not a cognitive one, with Seger boxing the air and gesticulating like a cop directing traffic.

This isn't to suggest that Seger has nothing to say -- far from it.

His tunes are often eloquent and touching reflections on the promise of young love and the emptiness of midlife ennui.

But watching Seger duck- walk across the stage like Chuck Berry's pasty, slightly paunchy spiritual heir, you get the impression that all the poignancy in the world wouldn't mean that much to this veteran rocker if you couldn't shake your derriere to it.

"The question is, are you feelin' funky tonight?" Seger said early in the show, right before launching into a heated "Tryin' to Live My Life Without You."

He didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to.

One gal was shakin' her hair so hard, she had to remove her glasses lest they go flying off. A row behind her, a refrigerator-size dude in a Seger T-shirt bellowed along to "Katmandu" with his hand over his heart, as if he were reciting the "Pledge of Allegiance."

And, in a way, perhaps he was. Seger inspires this kind of devotion because he seems so devoted himself.

Backed by a 13-piece band, Seger howled through his many hits with that gutbucket voice of his that doesn't sound like it's aged a day past 1976, often singing from the back of his heels.

Live, Seger and Co. tease even more sharp-edged funk out of standards like "Betty Lou's Gettin' Out Tonight" and "Sunspot Baby," resulting in extended jams with some combustible saxophone playing that nearly sucks all the air out of the room.

And during an especially raucous "Travelin' Man," you could feel the floor rattling beneath your feet as the crowd stomped along.

Seger played almost half of his latest album, "Face the Promise," a vintage-sounding disc that doesn't attempt to update his soul-fired rock 'n' roll and is the better for it.

After all, Seger's full-bodied swing is like denim and leather: It'll never go out of style, no matter how the times may change.

And that's where a large part of his appeal lies, especially with the older members of the crowd.

Seger soundtracked a generation's worth of proms, and to hear him sing today, it's as if no time has lapsed since.

This is a comforting notion, no doubt, for anyone who has gone gray like Seger has.

He has grown up without getting old -- a nifty feat -- and that's earned him arena after arena full of true believers.

"Faith, it's hard to find," Seger sang midway through the show, sitting down at the piano for a rare breather.

But it wasn't hard to find for this crowd. Not on this night.