They're one of the final graduates of the '2012 Guitar Revival' – a class that included Savages, Peace, Charlie Boyer & The Voyeurs and Palma Violets – but the age-old maxim of 'saving the best for last' seems to ring true for Deap Vally (though we still have HAIM to come, and Savages' debut was downright flawless). The LA garage-rock duo of Lindsey Troy and Julie Edwards have been snapping necks as they've whizzed past since 'Gonna Make My Own Money' last July, hammering listeners with a brilliant sound that's part riot-grrrl, part Black Keys and part White Stripes. Since then, they've opened for Muse and signed to Island. Impressive stuff.

'Lies', the lead single from Sistrionix, sees Troy perfect her Jack White wail. It's a cut brimming with snarling pomp, serrated riffs and barbed howls. There's confidence by the bucketload – Deap Vally aren't ashamed or shy about stomping right up to your face and hocking a phlegmmy wad of spit between your eyes: "Brother, brother, brother – these legs are closed to you!" wails Troy with a valiant smirk. 'Gonna Make My Own Money' is equally ballsy, with the lyrics centred around female empowerment – it's an anti-goldigger anthem, with Deap Vally standing tall and gleefully independent. 'Creeplife' is imbued with dark humour: "You get the girls with the fake ID, you get the itch with the HPV!" Chugging chords and quivering snare back the magnetic lyrics and it's clear that although Deap Vally are vocal about equality and stickin' it to the man, they're not as stoic as Savages, instead cockily taunting the negative facets of society.

'Baby I Call Hell', due out just before the album drops, is sleazier. Troy uses the track as a vehicle for her voice – she's essentially demonstrating how to be a proper rock singer. It's all OTT howls and gritty glissandi pumped full of vocal hooks you'll be humming for months. Not since the 80s have we had a real rockstar like her. Perhaps Lindsey Troy doesn't trash hotel rooms and revel in the chemical excesses of fame whilst banging groupies (though who knows, she might), but give her a mic and she'll instantly prove that she's cock of the walk. There's immediacy, slime and swagger – she possesses the holy trinity of rock.

By far the strongest cut on this anthology of strong cuts is 'Walk Of Shame'. Opening with miasmic feedback, it's an ode to the the embarrassment of schlepping it from some strangers bed to yours the morning after a booze-fuelled night of passion. The pair subvert the normal 'OMG'-ness of it all, standing tall and mightily proud: "Gonna take a walk of shame/ baby I don't feel no blame/ 'cause I got places to go/ but I've got no change of clothes." It's a blues-rock stomper with a sloppy off-kilter guitar solo and US military chant breakdown, and the entire 1:52 cut is delightful.

Deap Vally are a fascinating duo. Every which way you turn on Sistrionix there's something to draw you in: it could be an earworm axe lick, a fist-pumpin' beat from Edwards or the golden wordsmithery. Besides the the aura of the band, their impressive self-assurance etc., there's damn fine rock available. They take 60s classic rock, 80s cock-glam and modern legends as inspiration, fusing everything together in one big skillet of noise and making rock'n'roll hobo hash. They never sound dated, never sound tired.