Bob Seger singing about survival at Mandalay Bay

Bob Seger is less a man than a classic rock jukebox with an overgrowth of facial hair and glasses that look like they were swiped from the discount rack at Walgreens.

But aesthetics don't matter, tunes do.

And the Seger canon is as leakproof as a submarine fleet.

There's that voice: equally gruff and affecting, road worn and sweetly sentimental.

It's like a bullhorn blaring though a '50s-style, sock hop skronk, equally revelrous and wizened Rust Belt rock 'n' roll and in recent years, a much more rootsy tenor that approaches the outer fringes of country.

His songs are populated by dreamers and nine-to-fivers, winners and losers, thrill seekers and those who seek but a little solace.

What unites them all?

For the most part, they're survivors.

Just like the man who gives them a voice.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.