Jack White not got enough balls for you? Josh Homme getting too spacey? I recommend a sharp dose of Deap Vally. From the wrong-footing spelling onwards, Lindsay Troy (vocals and guitar) and Julie Edwards (drums) are a marketing mans dream, a superlative amalgam of Led Zeppelin, The White Stripes, Joan Jett and Joni Mitchell – and as ‘classic’ as that sounds, there is enough passion, energy, ire, revenge and integrity on this debut album to rate them as chief flag-wavers for the ‘classic-blues-punk’ movement.
‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t have the need to spread your seed…but it’s a fact, you broke your contract…’ Song titles such as ‘The End Of The World’, ‘Lies’ and ‘Gonna Make My Own Money’ signal direct, uncompromising rage via a truly awe-inspiring Robert Plant-meets-Stevie Nicks with a bottle of Jack Daniels and three packs of Gitanes delivery. The precise, painstaking discipline of crochet, a class in which our two heroines bonded in in Los Angeles, is better channelled through Julie Edwards’ John Bonham/Sheila E dynamic tattoos.
‘Sistrionix’ – a title which seems to sum up Deap Vally perfectly – is ideal cruising round the city in summer with the windows down rock and roll. Let’s hope that Lindsay Troys fury doesn’t subside before they’ve reclaimed the name of guitar music from Mumford, Two Door Cinema Club, The xx, or Haim – but if it does, I have a keen feeling that some hinted-at, more exploratory Captain Beefheartianisms may arise, and Rick Rubins production qualities might make something truly insane. For now though, down that shot, and bring the noise…
Sean Bw Parker (8/10)