here can be little doubt that raw sounding neo-garage rock is one of the trendier sounds getting forcefed through the hype machine these days. I think it’s not a bad thing at all really; while none of it is exactly breaking new sonic ground, I think that modern musicians looking back to bands like the Kinks, Stooges, and Velvet Underground for inspiration is a damn sight better than some of the other genres currently getting loads of media attention. In my mind, the lean, mean, rock of bands like The Hives or The White Stripes is a great antidote to all the emo-punk simpering and fuck-me R&B that is so pervasive in today’s pop music landscape.


That being said, the fact that certain of this new crop of garage bands are receiving so much press dilutes their potency a little bit for me. In spite of the fact that I’d rather hear Jack White sing “Fell In Love With a Girl” more than just about anything else I’m likely to hear on the radio, it loses some of that special quality when it’s sandwiched between 311 and Nickelback. Consider me a purist, but I’m more content to listen to my rock and just simply know that it’s the antithesis of radio drivel without having to hear the two juxtaposed so frequently. This lofty ideal, of course, is much easier to achieve with bands that embody the same aesthetic as the more commercially appropriated garage-revivalist bands but which are actually never heard on the radio.


The band I’ve been turning to most frequently when I’m in the mood for some Dave Mathews-free, quality fuzzed-out garage rock has been The Detroit Cobras. I mean, their name alone speaks volumes; they’re from Detroit, the heart of American garage rock, not to mention the fact that “The Detroit Cobras” sounds like it could have been the name of a third gang in Westside Story. On their latest album, Life, Loving, and Leaving, the Detroit Cobras rock out in a spirit similar to their contemporaries, but certainly don’t sound exactly like any of them; the things that set them apart the most are that they are exclusively a cover band and they have a female singer.


The songs are covers of mostly Motown soul and 50’s rock standards, with some surprising selections ranging from big names like Otis Redding and Ike Turner, to lesser knowns such as The Gardinias, The 5Royals, and Mickey Lee Lane. The Detroit Cobras have the chops to remain loyal to the spirit of the originals while adeptly reconstructing them in a big mish-mash of rockabilly, soul, and, of course, garage rock. The songs never sound awkward or forced, like so many covers of songs from this era. I mean, I have a very hard time imagining anybody recording a cover version of Otis Redding’s “Shout Bama Lama” that I like as much as the original, but the Cobras pull it off and make it sound easy- like it was something that was meant to be. The band more than ably delivers the sound necessary to make a batch of 14 cover songs sound believable, but the truly special thing about the Detroit Cobras is the vocals.


Vocalist Rachael Nagy is, without a doubt, the heart and soul of the band. According to Detroit Cobras lore, Nagy, entirely appropriate to the spirit of the songs on Life, Love, and Leaving, has had career stints as both a butcher and an exotic dancer. I have yet to see the Detroit Cobras live, or even see a good picture of Nagy, but I have a definite impression of her as a tattooed, microphone clutching, earnest, smoky voiced rockabilly pin-up girl who’s as likely to swig beer from a plastic cup between verses as she is to yell at the crowd for not shaking their asses enough on the dance floor. Regardless of her appearance, Nagy’s vocal range is superb; she is equally capable of singing slow smoldering torch songs like Ronnie Mack’s “Cry On” as she is huskily (and sexily) belting out the sultry vocals to soul songs like Mary Wells “Bye Bye Baby.” The highlight of the album, and the epitome of the Detroit Cobra sound, is their version of Jackie DeShannon’s “He Did It.” It’s got it all- handclaps, harmonica, “sha-la-la’s,”- all on top of a propulsive rhythm section and a genuinely sweltering vocal performance by Nagy. The entire song drips authenticity, and manages to bring the rock and a smile to your face. Yes, this is a good thing; I want you to remember this song the next time you turn on MTV, and you’ll see what I mean.


Life, Loving, and Leaving is fun, sweaty music, and due to the sincerity with which these classic soul songs are performed, I doubt Nagy or the rest of the Cobras would mind if you fell in love with that dark-eyed girl across the dance floor while you were rocking out like it was 1958. An album of nothing but covers could easily get tedious in a hurry, but the Detroit Cobras bring a certain purity to Life, Loving, and Leaving because there is a definite feeling of respect for the original work; there is little doubt that they are choosing to cover these songs for any reason other than that it is great music and they want to be a part of it. I, for one, am made doubly glad that The Detroit Cobras exist every time I hear the newest pitifully self-involved version of the “girls make me emotional” theme on our local Clear Channel radio station. I’ll take Detroit Cobra soul over spoonfed angst any day, and yes, I would like a Jack and Coke with that.