They just might be the strangest, most unlikely musical duo since Hall and Oates. And it’s obvious when they show up at one of their favorite Hollywood cafés. Tall, gamine Amanda Barrett arrives in a flowing white skirt, costume-jewelried black sweater, her big kohl-rimmed eyes framed by a pert Louise Brooks bob. She’s all girlish giggles and, for no apparent reason, she’s carrying a dinky red ukulele. Following hot on her fashionable heels is Abby Dewald, a shorter lass who—in her rumpled overalls, weathered jean jacket and striped engineer’s cap—looks like she’s been working on the railroad. All the livelong day. And she’s lugging a burlap tote bag with three deluxe juggler’s pins poking out the top.
What do they have in mind, this curious folk-pop team that bills itself as The Ditty Bops? Well, juggling, for one thing. Right there on the SoCal sidewalk, while passersby gather to gawk, Dewald begins tossing and catching the clubs. Barrett—whose father just happens to be a clown by profession—steps in front of her chum to show off her new trick called “stealing.” Grabbing a pin, she throws it back with lightning speed. Over tea, however, still more disparities emerge. Barrett is a world-traveled model and actress who currently anchors a sketch-comedy show for public-access TV called Pretty Things. Her mother, a Pagan Celtic musician, taught her to play dulcimer as a child.
Guitarist Dewald prefers sketching. She designs most of the Ditty Bops’ cut-and-paste-ish artwork and prefers roll-up-your-sleeves work over smooth office sailing. “And my sister taught me how to juggle when I was a kid, so I kinda picked up the pins in high school,” she explains. “But I stopped doing it for awhile. Then I met Amanda and one of the first times we hung out, we juggled together. She taught me how to pass, and then her dad taught us some new tricks.”
The Ditty Bops’ eponymous debut on Warner Brothers is every bit as oddball. Bouncing along on Roches-retro harmonies and quirky acoustic strumming, curiosities like “Ooh La La,” “Walk Or Ride” and a kooky cover of “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate” actually sound like old vaudeville, with a sassy burlesque edge. Yes, the girls confess, juggling is sometimes incorporated into their elaborate stage performances, which involve scripts and usually revolve around a prop-heavy theme like “Hawaiian,” “Celebrity Look-a-likes” or their most difficult undertaking, “Underwater Night.” “When we have free rein, we really go all out,” chirps Barrett, sliding her uke around on the café table. “We’re even planning to have a shadow puppet show at one of our gigs. Balinese style, of course.”
Why a musical collaboration? Why not? shrug Dewald and Barrett, who also punch in at 6:00 AM every weekday, hawking homemade pasta at an L.A. farmer’s market. If they can juggle huge standard-issue pins, juggling careers should be a simple circus act.