Acolyte

Acolyte, n. Greek mythology, a follower or attendant. Ephemera, n. Greek mythology, something which has a transitory existence. Halcyon, n. Greek mythology, a mythical bird with the power of charming winds and waves into calmness. Delphic, n. Greek mythology, obscurely prophetic.

Unsure why the sleeve of a Mancunian dance-rock album would read like the innards of a Homer anthology, I set about seeing if any of these tracks justify their resonant names and – lo and behold! – ‘Acolyte’, a nine-minute warpy instrumental epic, does indeed boast a vaguely religious magnetism; the highly abstract ‘Ephemera’ certainly lives up to its name at under two minutes long, while the distorted harmonies on ‘Halcyon’ could admittedly charm the halcyons from their mythical trees. Meanwhile, the nervy ‘Doubt’ and the extra-terrestrially blissful ‘Counterpoint’ are clear floor fillers in the waiting.

I could go on, but you get the gist. Every track on Acolyte is multi-layered, oddly fresh and sure to wangle its way into your affections. The New Order comparison is an easy one to make (the trio are currently pillaging many of Sumner and co.’s low-fi tricks for all they’re worth). However there are also hints of more modern alt rockers Friendly Fires and White Lies. Hell, I’ll even throw in a Muse-esque stadium-ready swagger – this record will sound fantastic booming out at a summer festival.
Delphic have cracked it by making music for people just like them – studious-looking white boys in nerdy glasses and tight v-neck jumpers. Are they obscurely prophetic, as the name suggests? I reckon. More importantly, they’re greedy, restless and bursting with ideas.