On paper, Deap Vally’s buzz-band appeal isn’t all that tricky to fathom. They’re loud. ‘Raunchy’. Fans of Led Zep and The White Stripes. What’s not to love, right?
Well, given the aggravating jumble of blues-rawk clichés that litters the LA duo’s debut – plenty. Singer Lindsey Troy’s throaty yowl – an sort of lightweight cross between Janis Joplin and Karen O – is toe-curlingly affected, while the lyrics, all no-strings fun and man-baiting sass-talk, might almost be exciting if they weren’t so corny (“Don’t think I’ll be visiting you in jail – HUH!” Troy admonishes one sleazy suitor in ‘Creeplife’). And we don’t think that’s doing womankind a disservice, either: early Yeah Yeah Yeahs, PJ Harvey on ‘Rid Of Me’… now that’s the kind of lust-drunk feminism we want to be fucking with. This is just kids’ stuff.
Mostly, though, the music on ‘Sistrionix’ is plain bad. ‘Lies’’ Nick Zinner-esque riffing could almost pass for dangerous, but ‘Walk Of Shame’ sounds like Jack White overdubbed in one of those YouTube ‘shred’ videos, and ‘Baby I Call Hell’ reminds us you don’t need a cock to make cock-rock.
Deap Vally? We’ll head for the hills, thanks.