Edwards, whose children are now three and eight, knows the routine: Call the doctor's pediatric information line, wait to hear back, explain the problem, then follow whatever advice comes next. Sometimes it’s more serious, but most of the time it’s nothing too grave.
“This is like a fact of life of trying to keep small humans alive,” the red-headed drummer explains.
It’s also one of the reasons that the duo behind Deap Vally recently decided to end the band with one final farewell run.
“Guess what? Kids want their mommy. So we needed to be available for our kids. Shocker,” Edwards quips.
She and guitarist-vocalist Troy will stop in Denver on Sunday, March 17, for a show at the Marquis. Local openers Team Nonexistent and Judith Hindle are also on the bill.
For the past thirteen years, Edwards and Troy have navigated the unknowns and firsts of nurturing and growing their L.A. rock band from an unexpected duo into a successful endeavor. They did it all without the help of a rock-and-roll information line, too. A seemingly Sisyphean task.
“We have been pushing a boulder up a hill this whole time,” Edwards says, adding that she and Troy have always handled all Deap Vally business themselves, including reading their own contracts and balancing budgets.
As a result, the two musicians have experienced everything from major-label support to more grassroots indie growth. But for some reason, Deap Vally still remains a “head-scratcher” to most people, Edwards continues.
“I think people would see imagery of us and think one thing, then hear us on record and be like, ‘I love this female-fronted band,’” she jokes. “Conceptually, it doesn’t roll off the tongue, or it’s not immediately obvious what it is. … I still think we are unique. I still don’t see anything like us, and maybe that’s because we’re a really bad idea. I don’t know.”
Whatever it is, Deap Vally drew praise for its raunchy blues-rock style and sound that's very White Stripes-meets-Led Zeppelin. The band’s 2016 sophomore album, Femejism, poked fun at all the attention the duo was getting for just being women rockers. “The only questions that we were ever asked was what it was like to be a woman, like, literally,” Edwards recalls of those early days. “It was so annoying. We were supposed to represent all women and feminism because we loved Zeppelin and Sabbath and we wanted to do music like that. We didn’t even know that’s what we were doing.
“But that’s why we called our second record that, because frankly, we were just so annoyed taking on the mantle of ‘feminism,’” she continues.
Initially, Edwards wanted to approach being in a band “like a man,” she admits, and live the type of rock-star lifestyle that became synonymous with those aforementioned larger-than-life groups. Deap Vally wanted to party and play with the best of them, Robert Plant and Ozzy Osbourne be damned.
“I think there’s this weird theme for me with Deap Vally. … We came out and we were like, ‘We’re going to be like Led Zeppelin. We’re going to have all the groupies. We’re going to flip the whole gender thing on its head,’” Edwards explains. “Pretty early on, it became clear that that was not to be done, so it’s been this very interesting process, up to and including having kids.”
The duo made a name for itself by playing ripping rock that would make Zeppelin proud.
Courtesy Jake Hanson
“Dudes in bands can have kids and they can go on tour and their kids don’t come,” she says. “I had a baby, and we were starting our second album cycle, and guess what? I had to tour with my baby for three years. There was no leaving her at home during that time.
“How do we shake off the confines of gender? I’m not entirely sure it can happen,” Edwards continues.
But with Deap Vally, Edwards and Troy did it their way and more than held their own. They've shared a stage with acts such as Blondie and the Red Hot Chili Peppers over the years, and are half of Deap Lips, which includes Wayne Coyne and Steven Drozd of the Flaming Lips. The supergroup of sorts put out a self-titled record in 2020.
In anticipation of the goodbye gigs, Deap Vally released SISTRIONIX 2.0 — a rehash of the 2013 debut from Island Records complete with previously unreleased demos, b-sides and deep cuts.
But the mutual decision to put Deap Vally to rest once and for all also comes after years of frustration, and some friction, between the co-collaborators, mainly because of burnout. Troy briefly toured without Edwards after Marriage came out in 2021. But that’s all water under the bridge, and both now appreciate the band for what it is and was as the end approaches.
“Deap Vally was an amazing thing,” Edwards concludes. “It deserves a punctuation moment rather than just petering out and disappearing.”
Deap Vally, 7 p.m. Sunday, March 17, Marquis Theater, 2009 Larimer Street. Tickets are $25-$33.
