The Detroit Cobras / The Sights / The Hiss - London Astoria - 12/2/03
4/5
By: Toby L
It shouldn't have come to it. Following two prior performances from fellow Stateside rock 'n' roll start-ups of almost orbit-infringingly immense proportions, The Detroit Cobras find themselves being heckled.
'F**K OFF,' bellows the less thoughtful of such a contingent towards the stage.
'Why don't you come up here and say that,' our hostess, Rachel Nagy - aka the Cobras' front-source of vocal-exertion, and former exotic dancer (uh-huh, no japes here) - reacts almost violently in her defence-delivery, far more demonic than witty. 
Which is almost the paradox at stake here: one minute, the DC's are charging through light-hearted soul/country-and-western crossover standards, the next - they're taunting us with an assuredness that almost suffocates as opposed to endears. Early days in their pursuit of converting the UK, sure, but there must be a more subtle, warming way to igniting a crowd than this.
First-on earlier, Atlanta's The Hiss (pictured above) are mildly more playful; 'This is a crazy one, so be careful - don't hurt yourselves,' states singer/guitarist Adrian Barrera, addressing a gradually-filling auditorium presently too scared to move (they're waiting for headliners The Libertines 'til that happens).
Still, this makes for a compelling, inspired opening - massages of Oasis-esque, strutting rock 'n' roll against groove-heavy bass and airplay-hugging material which means that all parts of their treble A-side debut single - 'Triumph', 'Street Research' and the MC5-genius brashness of 'Back On The Radio' - frolic and tremble with foaming glory, whilst their moody, capo-assisted-guitar-assault ending simply pulsates raggedly amidst mounds of textured, effects-ridden chords and immeasurably full-on drumming. Potential to spread? Understatement.
The same sentiments pur-lease to The Sights - a group so admirably, rewardingly unashamed to glance towards the likes of The Kinks and The Beatles for influences as they are to the frantic delivery of The Soledad Brothers or even The White Stripes, their golden blend of 60s and 70s guitar-pop is more ear-pleasing than the possible news that our present world-leaders have just been given the collective sack.
They pound us with fleshy, messy organ and melodious song-trappings that would make Supergrass leap upright with nerves and reduce the full body of sound as exhibited within the compelling 'Don't Want You Back' to a mere blues slumber ('Nobody'), segueing the contrasts as if they're performing a live concept-album; Jack White, intense bouts of wailing one minute, then Brian Wilson harmonic-scales the next ('It'd Be Nice...'), with every obscure note-inflection, guitar-bend and pummelling rhythm ('Got What I Want'), The Sights certainly prove themselves to be a glorious vision for sore eyes.
Confessedly, an altogether more retro affair for a night out in the 21st Century - but it's such acts' devotion to classic song-writing with attitude that forms such a thrilling evening's worth of entertainment; just our bonus that they sound as convincing on record, too - see for yourselves.
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