Or, Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Ban

Yes, Bob Seger, the man who sings the only songs that can make your dad cry, is in fact a werewolf.

Sometimes as a journalist you’re presented with a story so shocking, so reality damning, that you have no choice but to present it without any scientific evidence to back it up.

Because the truth is just too important to wait for crap like the facts to catch up.

To clarify up front, I don’t mean that Bob Seger is a werewolf in some metaphorical, abstract way. No, I mean that when the moon is full Bob Seger sheds and possibly shreds his human skin to become a fur-covered, nigh-unstoppable, throat-tearing creature of the night. Like Robin Williams. Coked up and shirtless, roaming the streets of Hollywood after slashing the jugular of some tween who called him the guy from Jumanji. So, like Robin Williams on a Thursday.

But how do I know Bob Seger is actually a werewolf? Since I am unable to divulge my source on this and the totally irrefutable proof I have been made privy to by said source, (because doing so would not only put my life in danger but would also make this article like 200 words longer and my dear readers, my sweet wonderlings, I assume you have things to do. Like melting down silverware to make bullet casings) I will instead show you the evidence that everyone already has access to.

Allow me to present my case for Seger as lycanthrope using the man’s own classic rock catalogue and career. When viewed within the proper context, the man’s lyrics and artistic choices illuminate his terrifying and inhuman struggle. Knowing now that Bob Seger walks the earth a damned, shape-shifting, fur-coated beast, veins pumping with equal parts regret and unholy rage … and then knowing on top of that that he’s a werewolf, it puts his whole creative output into a completely different level.

So Lou Reed was a junkie? 50 Cent got shot a bunch of times? Lead Belly killed a guy? So what? Who cares.

Bob Seger straight up went The Howling on motherfuckers, treating faces like toilet paper.

Well, not exactly like that. Or maybe exactly like that, there hasn’t been a hard hitting HBO expose like Pimps Up, Hoes Down for the werewolf set yet, so I don’t really know all the facts.

Here’s what I do know:

Bob Seger toured and recorded with The Silver Bullet Band. We all know that. But this is not just some colorful moniker picked at random for this group of musicians who backed Seger. This is the first of many hints to the general public at what Seger really is. The truth is that what became known as The Silver Bullet Band started out as a group of individuals with a much different purpose.

The Silver Bullet Band were actually a group of werewolf hunters who were investigating a series of grisly killings in the Detroit Michigan area in 1973.

To the Detroit Police Department, the murders seemed to only be the work of a wild feral animal. What with the level of sheer force and brutality that the attacker dismembered and bit into its victims, what else could it have been? But the hunters knew better and they traced the bloodshed back to Bob Seger.

Surrounded by the hunters, Seger pleaded with them that he was a good person and that he was not in control of himself when he transmogrified into a negawookie. He also happened to show them a couple of songs that he was working on. And when they heard his raspy, hard living, but tender howl of a voice mixed with his blue collar, middle aged, hippie-has-to-get-an-actual-job lyrics they were convinced of two things: one, what Seger said was true, he was not fully responsible for himself when he became a werewolf; two, this guy rocked and they wanted to rock with him. Luckily every single one of the werewolf hunters was also a talented musician and the rest is rock history.

But it is also secret history. Which is like regular history only sexier, and usually narrated by a former sci-fi TV show actor while a Theremin warbles and moans in the background.

Secret history is just as made up as regular history, but it serves its bullshit with style and panache.

So while Seger and The Silver Bullet Band went on to rock fame with a series of hits and traveled far and wide, dispensing staggeringly good live shows full of soulful rock that spoke to white people in their ’30s to late ’40s, no one knew the band’s other, darker purpose. While the Silver Bullet Band was there to back Seger, they were also there to keep an eye on him. When the moon was full they were the ones to chain Seger down, chant incantations, and transcribe any wolf visions that he might be having (this is how we got the song “Katmandu”) while he struggled with the transformation.

When Seger, strung out on too much booze and too many pills, would duck them and adjourn to an unknown hotel with some groupie, they were the ones to track him down and restrain him. Their efforts spared the lives of countless young women named Vanessa or Tammie who had feathered hair and/or regrettable Aquanet bangs. But of course there were those times when the band was too late and the “night moves” had sadly already taken place.

There are countless other hints laced throughout most of Seger’s songs about his true identity. Just as David Bowie’s lyrics reveal that he is actually a fallen angel from another level of reality (really, listen to Let’s Dance) so do Seger’s words tell his story of a man struggling with being different. There are many congruencies existing between rock stars and werewolves to begin with, so identifying Seger’s subtle hints can be difficult.

For example, rock stars, like werewolves, are always waking up somewhere unfamiliar and naked. Sometimes unaware of how exactly they go there and why they’re covered in blood that is not theirs.

Sometimes next to a severed lamb’s head. It’s rock and roll people, (rock and roll never forgets! Except here, where it does) shit sometimes gets out of hand.

But here are some serious breadcrumbs that Seger drops to let the listener know that he is wolfin’ it like Lon Chaney Jr.

“Turn The Page”

Listen to the saxophone and tell me it doesn’t sound exactly like a wolf’s blood freezing howl?

That’s not a coincidence. The song isn’t just about being on the road as a rock star and being worn down. No, it’s an account of how being a closeted werewolf surrounded by a band of werewolf hunters who might just put a silver bullet in your werewolf ass if you slip up and eat the face off one more roadie … that plus being a rock star on a long tour will wear you the fuck down.

The line, “You always seem out numbered / you don’t dare make a stand” isn’t actually about walking into a truck stop and getting shit from rednecks for having long hair. It’s a veiled message about Bob’s own isolation from his bandmates on the account of him being a werewolf. The line speaks to Seger’s ambivalence to his condition and his reliance on The Silver Bullet Band not only as backing players but as a custodians to his killer instinct. He knew it was for the best and that it kept everyone safe around him but he couldn’t help feel sometimes that he wanted to give in to his malicious, animalistic urges. Turn the page indeed.

“Night Moves”

Hello, it’s called “Night Moves.” Obviously it’s about being turned into a werewolf and not about being a horny teenager.

“She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes / And points all her own sitting way up high.”

That’s a young a Bob encountering the she-wolf that bit him and turned him. Her points sitting way up high refer to her pointy wolf ears. Or possibly her wolf boobs, it’s unclear here with the picture the lyrics paint.

I could go through every song of his and show you the werewolf truth hidden beneath, but that isn’t necessary. I’ve already told you far too much. But I will leave you with this:

Even though Bob Seger is without a doubt a hairy faced menace, he is also responsible for some seriously great music and powerful lyrics that will live long past any wrong he’s ever done.

Dads have to cry to something. It might as well be werewolf music.


Tony grew up in Tucson, Arizona but now lives in Boston. He is the author of the novel Nefarious Twit, which is available at If you wanna party with him find him on Facebook. If you are David Lee Roth time displaced from 1984, don't worry, he'll find you.



    Tony McMillen: you are one crazy, werewolf-loving, motherf-cker.

  2. Lyssa, what you say is true. I always said if I ever became a hipster scum DJ my DJ name would be GolfWolf. I’m pretty sure I’ve used that joke already in an old article but screw it. I’m just down with hairy faces, moustaches, sasquatches , and yes, werewolves. I frequently like to frolic with face follicles for the f-ck of it. F’real.

  3. Eileen Lappin Eileen Lappin says:

    Brilliant bit of research! It all makes sense now.

  4. Thank you, Eileen. I’ll tell the boys and girls back at the crime lab that their long sleepless nights were all worth it.

  5. joni joni says:

    Well whatever he is or isn’t
    , he can lay that furry head on my pillow anytime…..