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Deap Vally (Los Angeles, Calif.)
Two years ago, guitarist/vocalist Lindsey Troy met drummer Julie Edwards at a needlework class; the latter taught the former how to crochet. If you hear that story before you experience the music that the duo creates as Deap Vally, you might be inclined to believe that Troy and Edwards are mellow folkies with a penchant for sweet harmonies and gentle melodicism. Brother, would you be in for a kick in the nads. On their just-released debut album, Sistrionix, Deap Vally offers up filthy Black Sabbath garage rehearsal riffage and roiling Zeppelinesque beat hammering at a distorted volume that could bring down low-orbit satellites and shift weather patterns. With a determined swagger and amps turned up to a Spinal Tap-ish eleven, Deap Vally stomps on the fuzz pedal, kicks open the door to hormonal Rock's boys-only clubhouse and declares with gritty abandon that the girls are alright.
You'll Dig It If You Dig: Joan Jett licking an electrical outlet and dreaming of Tony Iommi, Geddy Lee and John Bonham, then waking up. Or does she? (Brian Baker)