The mission statement of The Delta 72, as repeated in nearly every interview given by singer/guitarist Gregg Foreman, is to get apathetic kids out of their houses and into the rock halls for some old-fashioned dancing. Probably more achievable than any political goal he could strive for, but does the band have the groove necessary to back up Foreman's brash talk? Within the first 45 seconds of The Soul Of A New Machine, The Delta 72 builds up such an intense low-fi groove that nary a butt will refrain from shaking. Then the band takes that groove and rams it square into a brick wall. The remainder of the album's first half sounds like The Delta 72 is unsure of whether to kneel at the R&B altar it supposedly pays homage to, or destroy it with ironic distance and Brainiac-tinged chaos. By the beginning of the album's second half, the group regains some of its lost momentum. Not enough, though, to break away from sounding like a second-rate Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, save for the final jazzy "hidden" track that stands out as the record's best moment.