There are, perhaps, few things as quintessentially American as the garage band. A group of teenagers cooped up in suburban garages, making noise which they optimistically refer to as "music," annoying every neighbor within a three-block radius and exhausting the tolerance of their parents. The Sights are no different, except they ended up swapping their Detroit garage for stages around the globe. Born in the late 90s, when the dot-com bubble was inflating faster than a parade balloon and boy bands were prancing around on MTV like primped peacocks, The Sights stood in sharp contrast—a headlong pudding of thrashing noise, testosterone, and tousled mopheads. They were everything Detroit needed and, frankly, didn’t deserve as a salve for its ills. You thought Detroit was struggling the auto industry? Try hard rock n’ roll. Their odyssey started in their drummer's mother's garage—cramped and dark, it hosted the birth of what one could, at best, consider an unimaginable aural assault. The collision of roaring bass, fierce guitar riffs, and the mighty pounding of drums was seemingly less an attempt to produce discernable music and more a bid to kickstart an earthquake. However, like most things in life, practice makes perfect. Or at the very least, less horrific—somewhere between playing dive bars full of embittered bikers and slightly inebriated minimart owners, they seemed to have found a rhythm that worked. The turning point for the band came when they got a gig opening for a popular one-hit-wonder. Ah! What a night it was! Expectedly, they were met with audience skepticism - after all, their reputation as a band was built primarily on their ability to hold a note for longer than their audience could hold their breath. And yet, like a rose sprung from concrete, they found their moment of transcendence via a broken guitar string and a lead singer’s impromptu interpretation of a wounded coyote which, surprisingly, the crowd seemed to enjoy… And thus began their ascent from motor city to music metropolis. From Detroit to Dusseldorf, Saskatchewan to Sheffield, they crisscrossed continents, bringing their own brand of rock 'n' roll chaos to stages large, small, and occasionally on the verge of collapse. To them, it didn’t matter if they were playing at a high-end venue or a dilapidated bar on the edge of obscurity. A stage was a stage; an opportunity to perform and, occasionally, to dodge beer bottles. The Sights’ journey is proof that one man's cacophony is another man's symphony. An inspiration to every band jamming in the garage today, dreaming of rocking out on the global stage. Meanwhile, parents sick of relentless drum solos and neighbours considering noise complaints can take solace in the fact that, for every band like The Sights, there's a litany of less noisy, less fortunate, forgotten garage stories left behind on the journey. And so, we salute you, The Sights—turned unlikely rock 'n roll heroes. From a garage in Detroit to global stages, their saga is but a modern-day spin on the classic American Dream—one with more hair, less melody, and a bucket load of resilience. Anthony Kiedis once said “Music, the great communicator”. Clearly, he wasn’t in a Detroit garage when a certain band was on a path to find their rhythm.