In the liner photos for the Detroit Cobras' fourth album, Tied & True, singer Rachel Nagy is always pictured with a half-smoked cigarette extending from between her index and middle fingers, which in this context carries as much cultural import as peroxide hair, Tura Satana measurements, and a crate full of girl-group 45s. In addition to ostensibly producing the delectable rasp in Nagy's vocals, each butt symbolizes the Cobras' debt to a very specific brand of juvenile delinquent cool that favors leather jackets and tender hearts, raw guitars and boozy beats. Formed guess where in 1995, the Cobras managed to survive that postmillennial garage rock thing on Sympathy for the Record Industry before signing to Bloodshot for their 2005 album, Baby, which was produced by fellow Detroit scenester Jack White. For their follow-up, Nagy and guitarist Mary Ramirez take over production (along with John Smereck) and bring in Reigning Sound's Greg Cartwright to beef up their guitar assault. Tossing off tracks like they're flicking dead butts onto asphalt, the Cobras sound reinvigorated, playing up their own feminine smarts and rock-and-roll insouciance that you just know sounds better live.
Tied & True suggests the Cobras have become one of the best cover bands around, with better chops and material than their competitors. To their considerable credit, they see no distinction on this album between blues, rockabilly, country, garage rock, soul, r&b, and girl-group pop, and so are free to mix everything together at will. After leading off with a fiery version of Garnett Mims' "As Long as I Have You", they pick the pockets of Irma Thomas, Bettye Lavette, the Cookies, the Flirtations, and the Equals, to name a few. Despite the pervasive smoking ban afflicting venues across the nation, the Cobras insist that their hard-living influences are timeless and trendless, and their understanding of how audiences first connected with these songs prevents the band from succumbing to joy-killing record-collection rock.
Tied & True primarily emphasizes the band's range through gender-switched covers. Sure, you don't even have to change the pronouns on songs like James Brown's "If You Don't Think" and Leadbelly's "On a Monday" to feminize them, but Little Willie John's "Leave My Kitten Alone" takes on a slightly new meaning delivered in Nagy's nicotine voice and with the band meowing in the background. Instead of the typical scenario of a man defending his woman against leering eyes, their version recasts the sexes and sexualities, opening the song up to new and more volatile readings. Fortunately, the Cobras don't have an academic mission on Tied & True; in fact, they'd probably scoff at such a deep reading. For them a cigarette is just a cigarette.
