Rachel Nagy is a woman who claims she won't let you take her or anyone else too seriously. Yet her band, the Detroit Cobras, is the hottest ticket on an increasingly hot "garage rock" circuit. Still, Ms. Nagy insists she's only in it for the free beer.
It's always hard to describe a group's sound without coming off like you're either in The Player or graduate school. But after, say, a Nebula show, you'll wake to an unsettling stiffness along the top of the spine, near the base of the head. With an act like the Greenhornes, you should notice a distinct shooting pain on both sides of your neck. Now, we've never seen the Cobras live, but we're guessing that after their show this Saturday you'll be feeling it somewhere in the hips.
Or at least that's what Ms. Nagy seemed to imply the other day on the phone, when we learned she likes to use the word "fuck"?a lot. She also told us who's gay in the Detroit music scene, and we mean gay in the junior high school sense. Ms. Nagy then discussed her somewhat cliched progression to frontwoman from chef and aspiring butcher (you mean you don't just walk in, tell them you want to handle raw meat and they're happy to see you?). Most importantly, while Ms. Nagy tried to seem sincere, it quickly became apparent that she's probably just a prima donna, and if so, of the worst kind. Just kidding...
Tanya Richardson: I was a little shocked when I got your new album, Life, Love and Leaving. I'm crazy about the rock 'n' roll bands coming out of Detroit, and I'd always heard you guys were the best...
And then you heard it and went, "This is supposed to be the best?"
TR: [laughs] Exactly. No, I was just shocked that it's so different from the other Detroit bands. Your sound is very blues/Motown.
It's funny. We're not punk, and we've got a little bit of rock 'n' roll, but really it's old soul. We're trying to do it for real, although we're not these incredible soul musicians. To be quite honest, we're white. I mean all our songs are covers. If we could play the song exactly the way it was originally recorded, we would. Well, not exactly.
TR: Are you hoping that you can take this music you really love and use it as a springboard to making music that is really your own?
From the beginning, someone in the band has always thrown around the idea of doing originals. Personally, I don't want to. I've come to be proud of doing just covers. As an example, we recently went to South by Southwest. There were a zillion bands and I didn't see a single good group. They all sucked! Everyone thinks they have something to say, that their musical vision is so incredible and genius, and it's all crap! You know, I don't think I've got a goddamn thing to say.
Lisa LeeKing: Plus people our age weren't around when Otis Redding was big, and so it's new for the kids.
And some of that stuff never got big. Look at Irma Thomas. Even now, I mean, she's got a little club in New Orleans and she's doing well. Do you know Irma's song "Ruler of My Heart"? Well, Otis Redding went and did "Pain in My Heart," and she never made a dime off it. A lot of these songs never got exposure or proper credit, so it's kinda cool to bring them to people now. And I'm happy when someone looks up the person who originally did one of our songs, and gets the album.
TR: What's the music scene like in Detroit today?
There are pretty much two scenes as far as garage or rock 'n' roll is concerned. There's the one scene where everybody knows everybody, because it's very small. There are like three bars, and everyone is in each other's bands, and thank God I don't really give a fuck whether people hate me or not. And I'm sorry, but let me just say that Detroit music sucks. It really does. This whole idea that there's going to be a Detroit explosion... It's gonna be a pop, a fizzle, and that's it. The well is not very deep. So anyway, there's that small scene, and then there's this other scene, which is just really fucking gay. People who are really, really serious about it and want to be stars. They've got the Detroit Musicians Alliance. And they suck.
TR: They're gay.
[laughs] They are so gay.
LL: What about your labelmates, the White Stripes?
TR: Yeah, are they gay?
No. I love Jack [White]. And that's another thing?people are always saying, "Man, they aren't that good. They shouldn't be making it this big. It doesn't make any sense." I can't think of a single person I would rather see it happen to. The fact that he's on Sympathy for the Record Industry was a really smart move. I'm sure he could've signed with a major label, and they would have said, "You should put a bass in there, and a full string section in here." It's weird, though, that they are doing so well, because kind of like us, they can't be pigeonholed.
LL: But that's exactly why people like your band, or the White Stripes, or the Go. Because you can't pigeonhole it.
But that mass-produced stuff is the shit that usually gets to people, I guess because they have an ear for crap, and will eat whatever anyone feeds them.
TR: But like you said, nobody was feeding people the White Stripes, which is interesting. All that has changed now. But I guess considering you're so shocked by even this much exposure, maybe we're left to infer that you didn't always want to be a singer.
I never in my life considered being a singer. I was a butcher?a chef and a butcher?for years. I had my whole life planned, and it was all going great, and then they busted up the unions in Michigan. Now I'm kinda like at ground zero. Because this [the band] isn't going to be my profession. We'll never be, like, big. I'm never going to be able to live off this.
TR: That's what Jack White told us!
LL: Are you going to wait three more years to make another album?
We are going to do another album soon, now that we have bass player Matt, and if he ever tries to leave, we'll lock him up in the basement and sedate him. We're perfect as a band, finally, so we can start making plans and doing more shows. But we don't do a lot of touring. We all have lives, and we're not trying to become rock stars. But people will fly us out to do shows. We're starting to get offers from different festivals in Australia and Japan, and we'll do that stuff.
TR: But you're not doing Birmingham, AL, on a Monday night.
Exactly. We're a little too old to cram into a van and starve for a week. Plus we're not trying to get exposure. This is not a delusion of grandeur...
LL: No, I like this approach. It's the opposite of bands who'll work five crappy jobs so that they can have their crappy band...
TR: Hey, wait a minute. As a writer, I think there's something to be said for that. If you have a dream you should follow it, or you don't have a chance in hell, because, as Slash told me, it is against all odds.
You know, you're right. It's just that I've seen so fucking much of it. There are so many bands who can't even step back and admit they are horrible. And I can't stand people who hand demos to every fucking bum on the street because "someone is going to have the right connection." But don't print any of that stuff, please.
TR: I would like to print some of it, because it's the ugly side of every industry.
Just don't make me sound like this asshole who thinks I'm so great and everyone else sucks...
It's my biggest fear, because I had this friend who wanted to be Madonna. Well, as big as Madonna, like the punk rock Madonna. And she was fucking awful. She would never practice, and throw tantrums...
TR: Was your friend's name Courtney Love?
I mean, when people tell me I'm great, it's like no, Irma Thomas, Tina Turner, Baby Washington, they are great. They make me cry.
When the Cobras first started and asked me to sing with them, they already had this little black kid, but apparently he was too scared to ever really play a show. The only singing I'd done was in my car, so I told them it would be crazy. And then that friend I was telling you about, well, they got her to do it.
TR: Oh no!
Oh yes! And of course that lasted for about two hours before they threw her out the window. She was going around telling everyone, "Hey I'm in this band," so I thought it might be funny to sing for them, just to laugh at her. Then the band was like, "We'll buy you beer." So I said okay. And you know, thank God I did, because Damien [drums] and I were talking the other day, and if it wasn't for this band, we would never go out! It's the perfect excuse to drink and have fun. Because we're in the band, we have a purpose.
TR: We have a purpose too! To see your band.
And I love that our music doesn't have a message, except to dance and have fun and find a pretty girl to kiss and fall in love with. I mean, I would dance all the time if there were a place I could do it.
TR: What can we expect at this show?
A lotta drinkin', a lotta carousing and a lotta booty-shakin'. I don't think there's enough of that. So if I can provide just one drunken, booty-shakin' night for someone...
TR: Then you've done your job.
Exactly.
The Detroit Cobras play Sat., July 28, at the Village Underground, 130 W. 3rd St. (betw. MacDougal St. & 6th Ave.), 777-7745.