As a kid, Julie Edwards constantly had her grammar corrected by her talk-show-host father Steve Edwards, who now anchors “Good Day L.A.”
“I couldn’t say, ‘Everyone has their own thing.’ It had to be, ‘Everyone has his — or her — own thing,’” says the drummer, who rebelled by dubbing her new duo, with guitarist-vocalist Lindsey Troy, Deap Vally.
“But one day, someone told me the theory that every form of communication works,” she adds. “It doesn’t have to be proper. So spelling and grammar are for elitists — the world belongs to the common people!”
Edwards’ dad, often featured on “The Soup,” also taught her more valuable life lessons, such as not to talk too loudly in elevators, how to communicate clearly, and how to find the corner table in the restaurant with all the seats facing out, so no one can approach you from behind.
But her brother Greg Edwards, of the group Autolux, made the biggest impression, says Edwards, who brings Deap Vally to The City this weekend, backing its debut EP, “Get Deap!”
“If he hadn’t been in my life, I’d probably be in a Broadway production of ‘Jersey Boys’ right now — it would be dark,” she says.
As a teen, Troy was signed to Elektra with her sister Anna, playing as The Troys. But Edwards, who wore T-shirts that said “born to act” at 11, was champing at the board-trodding bit, and got an agent at 15.
“The first thing she wanted to do was change my name to P.J. McDuff — some stupid Irish-sounding name with initials,” says Edwards, who went on just one cattle call, for a slasher film.
“I asked the director if it was a nude scene, and he said, ‘You can wear your panties if you want,’” she says. “That was the death rattle of acting for me.”
Meanwhile, her elder sibling gave Edwards her first alternative CDs, like My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless,” which fascinated her. And once she saw Autolux’s powerhouse female drummer Carla Azar in action, she took up percussion.
Her other hobby, knitting (“Compulsive, repetitive behavior that can get through stress to this meditative state,” she says) led to Deap Vally when Troy walked into her crochet shop and asked her for a lesson.
Soon, the two were cranking out blues-metal anthems such as “Gonna Make My Own Money,” and, from the upcoming album “Sistrionix,” “Walk of Shame” and “Raw Material,” which references Edwards’ creepy audition.
“That’s about not messing with someone who’s creating herself,” she says. “Or treating her like she’s raw material that can be molded.”