As you can see from the above tweet yesterday from Roots drummer ?uestlove, the group’s highly anticipated new album, How I Got Over — initially set to come out earlier this year, then slated for a release date of today — has now been pushed back to sometime next year.

Said Sir Questo about the delay in an Okayplayer post:

i *could* bs you w/ good bad news but we too old to get into that after 11 years together so in short.

would you RATHER me just “turn it in already!!!!!” (and again–despite that “worst song the roots ever done poast…there is NO song that i dont sweat prep/execute/mix/focusgroup/re do/argue over/mix for 19 hours until i feel goosebumps…..EVER. (well actually one song. a piece of trash called “the seed” rotf)

or do you want me to turn it in when its perfecto?

im SUPPOSED to turn it in tomorrow.

however.

i do not like these mixes all that much.

studios have shut down in new york and basically there are 5 left (back in the TFA days there were 40something)—the studio i REALLY wanna kick ass in wont be available til late oct.–there i can mix this baby with the analog ish im dying to use (we made this album pretty much organix style in front of each other)–im not doing the polling.

i guess im asking what does the majority think?

part of me doesn’t wanna release this album in a crowded lane of november.

but shit has to be right (we mixed it in pro tools and i cant help wonder what ish would sound like mixed on a neve.

so in short.

imma hold this baby til its right yall.

i cant cheat myself.

sorry.

Noise music. It’s an acquired taste. Sometimes, it seems, it takes the most esoteric and cerebral of folks to enjoy it—those who can disassociate all their senses of what makes a song a good song because they’re artists themselves, they relish in chaos or seek something totally weird. Tuesday night at Kung Fu Necktie was a presentation of the whole range; from weirdo noise to totally crowd-pleasing groove-heavy dance jams, an audience was exposed to a night of arty music. It was a stinky, sweaty, hot August night avant-guard music and the payoff was worth it.

Because modern music is a mind-fuck of sounds; a huge range and a post-modern world provides musicians innumerable ways of creating sounds from other sounds (samples, loops, laptops, synths, beats, etc.). But your creativity with these sounds would be what sets you apart from the two year old banging on baby’s first Casio, right? Gang Gang Dance takes it all and molds it into one of the most body-moving, percussion-heavy multi-genre aural clusterbang in recent memory. Animal Collective comes to mind—a band who brings grooves out of chaos and employs chanting, carnality and indigenous sounds with samples and synths.

With GGD there is a heavy emphasis on percussion and rhythms but not necessarily from a machine. The lead singer, Liz Bougatsos, put her mallot-style drumsticks down only for a few songs. She sang in front of a collection of bongos, a bass drum, cymbal and high-hat and filled in near-silences with drum and cymbal rolls. Brian Degraw, accepting keys, percussion and synth responsibilities, also held drumsticks in his hand most of the night and achieved some of the band’s worldbeat reputation by playing a drum pad like steel drums. Guitarist Josh Diamond tweaked a stack full of black boxes which seemed responsible for the trumpet sounds on one song. But of course the stellar drumming of the full-on drummer drummer, Tim DeWitt, is what pulls the performance together. He is a mad man and his drums filled that little room like they needed to.

There’s a moment in nearly every GGD song when seemingly disparate elements were brought together by a crash of drums or the introduction of a new rhythm. Each song picked up momentum and by the end, the crowded room was moving and swaying like a hippified festival set. They took it there. Eight to ten minute songs dominated by a tribal-flavored beats were reminiscent of house and trance, and yet, strangely, also of jam bands like moe.. (Bill Chenevert)

Their set included a welcome mix of 2006’s Yellow House standards but electrified and energized. “Knife” and “Little Brother” sound almost like countrified folk jams on disc. But after some trouble tuning Droste’s guitar, lead guitarist Dan Rossen came to the rescue so both guitars could chime in at the right moment for “Little Brother”’s many crescendos. Rossen shares lead vocal duties on some songs and his “My God That’s Not the Way” was one of the highlights of the set, as was the unforgettable galloping drum and haunting reprise of “I want you to know” and “I think it’s alright” from “Knife.”

Veckatemist highlights included the set and album opener “Southern Point.” Its slow and soft start with a buildup to a climactic guitar and drum explosion is characteristic of several strong Grizzly Bear songs, and Rossen can really shred when he gets hyped up, throwing in extra notes and strums as the moment requires. “Cheerleader” and “While You Wait for the Others” were other new standouts. Rossen’s slightly higher vocal fits very nicely over the rest of the bands howling, including drummer Chris Bear and bassist Chris Taylor. It’s on “While You Wait” where you can really appreciate that all four band members contribute to the vocal delivery while Rossen reaches over the top with “And what was there / The perfect cleft / We all fall through.”

It’s nice to love a new record, but even better to be assured that the guys making it aren’t just studio nerds. It would’ve been a boring show if they’d only thrown in one or two Yellow House jams, but Grizzly Bear are shaping up to be one of the best indie rock bands of the 2000s. (Bill Chenevert)

Can ladies shred like dudes? This is the eternal question the four members of Lez Zeppelin look to eliminate with each white-hot guitar lick, and each thundering drum thud as long as they tour their Zeppelin tribute act to macho white men who’re looking for sexy girls to not only melt their face, but also maybe make out with one another.

The answer, of course, is “fucking duh.” Lead guitarist Steph Paynes has a double-neck guitar and wields it better than most humans with testicles. Lead singer Kris Bradley’s sexy sways, stumbles and shimmies were entrancing whether she was singing the Zep hits or a couple original tunes—the Led Zeppelin inspired “On the Rocks” and “Winter Sun”—off their 2007 debut that was recorded by Zep II engineer Eddie Kramer. Bradley’s tight jeans, feather-trimmed tank and dirty, sexy rock hair were employed perfectly to conjure a suitable, even preferable Plant representation.

A tribute to Zeppelin is no easy feat, of course—the band has a catalog as deep as Alister Crowley’s penchant for the satanic—and Zeppelin fans are as die-hard as they come. No one really ever says, “Yeah, I liked I & II but Presence just kind of ruins them for me.” Zep enthusiasm is usually all-encompassing.

As such, the crowd was treated to a wide array of Zep rockness, including many of the hits—”Dazed and Confused,” “No Quarter,” “Friends,” “Rock and Roll,”—interpreted in a modern, thrashy way that was much-appreciated. Lez were loud and distorted, it was a set with many moments of balls out, nay tits-out, blistering rock moments. “Whole Lotta Love”—in which Bradley poured on the sex charm getting on her knees to worship Paynes’ guitar work at crotch level—and “Communication Breakdown” leveled the crowd with its initial burst of guitar and drum energy for a fitting ending during Lez’s encore.

And, no, they didn’t kiss each other. (Bill Chenevert)

Last night “Philly’s own” Asher Roth bowled over an excited crowd of mostly-females at World Cafe Live, playing close to every song on his iTunes topping, Pitchfork-hated album Sleeping With Loaves Of Other Things That Happen To Be White. DJ Drama opened, and Asher peppered his set with a couple songs the two collaborated on for the Greenhouse Effect mixtape released last summer that served as an appetizer for the full-on media blitz we’re all currently dining on.

Speaking of dining: the oddest part of the show last night was Asher dropping an a Capella rap about the benefits of eating organic produce—a long, word-twisting condemnation of the chemicals in the everyday foods we consume—all the while two jealous mooks in the back by the soundboard kept yelling “Fuck you!”—then to one another—”What the fuck is he talking about?”

What he was talking about mattered little. The crowd was BUYING IT regardless; hopping up and down when commanded, finishing the ends of couplets when Asher held his microphone to the crowd. During his song “She Don’t Want A Man” the stage was flooded with college girls in halter tops, all thrusting their asses toward Asher, who at times looked genuinely frightened by the hoard on stage.

Cue guys in back, “He don’t want him to feel he’s got a tiny pecker!”

More pics below. (One and two of DJ Drama and Chio from Wired 96.5 respectively. Click twice for full size. All photos by Brian McManus.

Now, just cuz, here’s the song he performed off the mixtape. “CANNON!!!” “CANNON”

By Bill Chenevert, Make Major Moves intern

1. Lead Of Montreal madman Kevin Barnes wore dramatic silver eye makeup.
2. And tighter than skin-tight black pants.
3. And a blousey teal silk leisure shirt.
4. With purple blazer.
5. And matching neck scarf/tie.
6. The girl on keys wore a miniature black prom dress.
7. With aqua leggings.
8. A 12-string guitar.
9. Angel wings.
10. “Rapture Rapes the Muses,” the band’s third song, was accompanied by a trio of dancers in nude suits.
11. And a guy in a hot pink leotard.
12. A new song called “Coquette, Coquette” was accompanied by the same dancing trio dressed as blond men/women who posed, angry and howling, with arms outstretched.
13. Crowd surfing.
14. Dry ice.
15. More Dry ice.
16. Barnes in a suit that looked like a pine tree. It was smoking. Looked like Christmas. On fire.
17. Sexy George Washington Santas, in crushed red velvet and embellished lace collars.
18. In gas masks on.
19. A tall kitten-headed man became an applause meter during the encore.
20. “She’s a Rejector” from Hissing Fauna closed out the night before Barnes took it upon himself to face-plant into the drum set.

Show was fantastic.

She played primarily songs from her latest album Middle Cyclone, some of them to great effect with her full, loud band that filled every corner of 91 year old theatre. She opened with Fox Confessor Brings the Flood gem “Maybe Sparrow” while cartoon imagery filled a canvas behind her and her stellar team of co-conspirators. With a wicked slide guitar, stand-up bass, electric bass, drums and a backup vocalist to support her, “I’m an Animal” achieved the apex of the set’s energy.

Animal imagery is rampant on Middle Cyclone, a continuing trend from previous records. For her second song she sang of killer whales and elephants on “People Got a Lotta Nerve,” singing the convincing chorus “I’m a man man man maneater.” As if she really does eat men but not out of vengence, just necessity; nature. She revisited an old classic, “Favorite,” halfway through her encore which has my favorite animal line in her catalogue: “Last night I dreamt that I hit a deer with my car/ Blood from his heart spilled out on my dress, it was warm.” After that she gave us the gracefully gorgeous “Magpie To The Morning” before closing out the night with “Star Witness” and “Knock Loud.”

Though titles don’t always match up to the lyrics and the chorus, it’s pretty easy to note key lyrics, like “You said I was your blue, blue baby” and “I love girls in white leather jackets” on “The Pharaohs.” Or “I love your long shadows and your gunpowder eyes” on “Prison Girls.” Or on the sad cover song by Harry Nilsson, “Don’t Forget Me,” the words “when we’re older and full of cancer” and “You know I think about you, let me know you think about me too” have haunted me for days.

She played every song brilliantly, sometimes donning a guitar and other times just standing with her hands clasped behind her tilting head to sing into the microphone. She put her gorgeous hair up and down, riffed with her backup singer, and gave some much-needed humor to break up the near silence between songs. It’s not a new thing to say, but Neko Case, like the Mother Earth she is so fond of singing about, is a force to be reckoned with. (Bill Chenevert)

Fri., Trocadero. All photos by Michael Alan Goldberg.

Last week PW staff writer Tara Murtha headed to the Tin Angel to catch a set by Jolie Holland. She left disappointed. She hemmed and hawed about writing anything, nagged by her underdog hero art thing: why waste energy, time and print space on negativity?

After the jump, Murtha gives the up and coming starlet a piece of her mind.

Open letter to Jolie Holland,

You are not doing the ticket-paying audience a favor by showing up to your own gig. I don’t know how you felt last week. Perhaps you had a cold. Maybe a lover just texted some major bullshit. I can dig the frustration of being in one emotional space and then having to perform in another on a dime, I feel that way about going to the shrink. Difference is, I’m paying them.

Your stage presence was odious. The slumped shoulders, sour puss snarls and eye-rolls were embarrassing, as was the apparent lack of set list. Yeah the sound sucked, which is uncharacteristic for the venue actually. I wonder if you even did a proper sound check earlier since your guy was bleating “check check check” into the mike right before you slumped onto stage.

The Billy Idol aping and letting the vox bleed into a blurry painkiller-y drone from which no words could escape with recognizable annunciation was just WEIRD. You’re not like that on youtubes.

Your hardcore fan base seemed mysteriously unaware of how bad it was. I don’t know, maybe their expectations were calibrated on previous shows and not on a very good, apparently very produced, album. The next day, showgoers, writers who have worked with you in the past, restaurant workers, other music industry peeps were all sharing their negative experiences of working with you. After writing an enthusiastic preview, I’m wondering what the hell happened.

Tara Murtha

Thurs., Oct. 2. First Unitarian Church. Photos by Andy Hines and Maxine Mendoza.