Mostly, debut album Acolyte sounded like this particular Manchester band had supped hometown New Order influences with their mothers' milk: a blizzard of electronic jingles and jangles, it even glanced nervously at the wreckage of Klaxons while throwing its ravey hands in the air.
If anything, Collections is an even more glaring example of style over content, a massive production job desperately trying every trick in the book to distract the listener from realising these songs are very ordinary. The vocals are weak, the lyrics banal, the orchestration self-important rather than genuinely epic.
We're now into 2013, a year when acts like SBTRKT have given electronica an edge and bands like Palma Violets have put the guitar back on the agenda. Delphic, meanwhile, are fumbling around with turgid, bassy "urban" beats, mimicking Friendly Fires in the mirror, embarrassing themselves by throwing hip-hop shapes on closer Exotic. Taking both albums together, you get very little sense of who Delphic really are, just a deluge of hints at the many people they'd rather be.