The Rolling Stones have always been more American than British. They may have caught on in Britain before they did in the U.S., but it’s clear we’ve co-opted the band. Hell, has any one person shown as much love for American music as Keith Richards? Look at the new Q Magazine poll of the Best Albums of All Time: The Rolling Stones Exile on Main Street is the first entry for the band and is placed way down on the list at number 34, losing to such classics as Californication and A Rush of Blood to the Head. That’s not to say the readers of Q have bad taste (I’ll let someone else make that argument) but it does show that the band just doesn’t seem to have the same love affair with The Glimmer Twins & Co. as Americans.

But the burning question among fans (or just me and, like, ten other people) has always been: are there any American bands that could be considered “The American Stones”? Is there anyone who can equal the swagger, sexuality, and talent of the Stones? The answer is probably no. And who would it be? Aerosmith and Guns N’ Roses are obvious choices; two bands who consciously tried to emulate the greatness of the Stones, getting it down to a science: energetic, megalomaniacal frontman plus mysterious, but incredibly talented guitarist who is nearly always knocking on death’s door. Swagger, lean on each other a lot in concert, rinse in bourbon, repeat.

And that said, here I present a few, perhaps less obvious choices:

The Stooges – “Loose”

Possibly the only band on my list that might not have consciously been trying to be the Stones (hell, they just wanted to be The Kingsmen), The Stooges offered nasty, lurid rock n’ roll with lyrical innuendos that would make Mick Jagger red in the face. If the Stones were an R-rated movie, The Stooges were Midnight Cowboy. Offering a similar brand of pounding riffs and raw sexuality, The Rolling Stones always took it to the edge and Iggy and the boys would take it to the edge, push it over, and proceed to stomp on it. They went places the Stones never would, sonically and lyrically. On “Loose” a lone grungy guitar riff surges, backed by the always primitive rhythm section of the Asheton brothers and the undeniably captivating caterwaul of Iggy in the background, only changing to a gentle croon to creepily tell us, “I’ll stick it deep inside.” When Jagger was still offering carefully veiled innuendo, Iggy was slapping raw sex right on the turntable with a youthful energy and vigor only the noisiest garage rockers from Motor City, USA could provide.

New York Dolls – “Trash”

The Dolls were often called “The Stones of the Lower East Side,” and there was little to differentiate them from other wannabes on the surface, despite androgynous costumes and makeup the Stones (or at least Mick Jagger) wouldn’t attempt for some time. They had one of the best versions of the charismatic frontman and enigmatic guitarist formula in David Johansen and Johnny Thunders, and both owed a great deal to their Jagger and Richards, respectively; but they also managed to bring a rough and tumble edge to the tried and true Chuck Berry riffs Keef had been recycling for years—a punkish quality and insatiable energy that the Stones never could quite seem to emulate despite their best efforts (see Some Girls’ “Shattered”). “Trash” exemplifies this; a simple garage rock ditty made atypical simply by the power of the band’s playing. Like The Stooges, the Dolls make you feel like you are there. You can almost smell the smoke of Max’s Kansas City coming through the track—you can nearly see this gang of freaks tear through the track like an F-4 tornado, and they’re playing so furiously and mean, it’s hard not to get caught up in the whirlwind.

Grandpaboy – “Anything But That”

Grandpaboy is the handle former Replacements leader Paul Westerberg uses when he wants to churn out albums of sloppy, lo-fi blues rock. But this isn’t exactly Robert Johnson: this is grubby, classic rock. Where the Replacements were Faces and Big Star, Grandpaboy is all about Keith, with Mick Jagger as merely a minor annoyance, standing in the way of the genius of Mr. Richard(s). “Anything But That” from his first full length under the moniker, Mono, is everything the Stones were circa Exile: grimy, open G riffage and bratty, loose vocal stylings (not to mention the fact that it too was recorded in a dank basement, and sounds like it).

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