I believe that an
album cover can always tell you a lot about an album, and the box art of
Delphic’s two albums displays their difference. Debut Acolyte is all stark black and grey, reflecting a one-note if
satisfyingly solid album, whereas Collections
looks like someone vomited sunny delight through a stencil, reflecting a more
diverse, if perhaps less consistent effort. Although one thing I must say is
that Acolyte wasn’t as emphatically
brilliant as the press are content to now say it was. It was still a very, very
good album, but it was not without it’s more forgettable moments. As you may remember, Delphic appeared on the
indie scene to an uproar of hype, a hype that was swiftly withdrawn when the Manchester
trio actually released their album, leaving it to relative anonymity. It was like Delphic were stood at a
third-storey window, with the music consuming public beneath them, encircling a
golden and jewel-encrusted trampoline, eager to receive their first piece of
work. Delphic were happy to oblige and
just as they pushed Acolyte into
freefall, the gawping indie-punters wandered off in search of something else,
leaving Acolyte to tumble gracelessly
to ground. And yet now the critics talk
about that album like it was god’s gift to electronica.
At a glance it would seem things have gone very, very wrong
on Collections. The Guradian have two
reviews for the album, one awards a sympathetic three stars, the other awards
just the one. The NME did all they can,
and piled on the condescension. The critics are hardly blown away with this
one. Furthermore the music video for single Baiya
is quite terribly misconceived. The video sees the three band members fighting
over a girl. I’m not even kidding. Who told them this would fit their sound, at
all? Are we supposed to overlook the fact that Delphic are three of the
weediest blokes in the UK. I doubt any one of them could run for a full three
minutes without collapsing with a stitch, and as for abducting a pretty
brunette, it’s fairly obvious she could put any one of them in a headlock and
noogie them into teary submission. The
video culminates in a stop-motion kung-fu fight that makes the video for Sexy And I Know It look like the work of
Roman Polanski. So even before we hear
the album itself the wheels are flying off it like the buttons on SuBo's night gown.
Still when you finally have a sit down with Collections, you might wonder why the
pre-release material had you questioning Delphic’s intentions. Opener Of
The Young has an emphatic chorus and some fairly solid synth and guitar
hook-up that echoes of NY outfit Yeasayer.
The bands South American influences come to the fore on Baiya, which is probably the best thing
on the album. It’s a single that, miles away from its terrible visual
component, pulses with a hint of salsa and bachata; in fact the other-worldly
narrative gives it the air of folk, in parts sounding like Barbatuques’ latin
folk anthem, Baianá. It still has plenty of Delphic’s signature neo-80s
sound, ehocing of Talk Talk and Tears For Fears, and holding an extended gaze
with Muse’s RnB Depeche Mode trip, Undisclosed
Desires. Here we see experimentation
that works. Now see some that doesn’t.
Changes sees the Manchurians embrace
a sort of faux rap that is as unexpected as it is unwanted. Delphic were hardly
ever a risqué band, even if they did have a certain edge; but no one ever
wanted them to give rap a go. Front man Richard Boardman is hardly P Diddy and
he should probably remember that. Still contact with quality is re-established
with Freedom Found, which soars above
the crap with a lovely chorus and some spot-on keyboards. The backbone of the set, Atlas is an impressive piece of work that embraces a bit of blues-y
guitar-work as well as some of dubstep’s more bearable wub’s.
Here we see the big, big difference between Delphic’s two
albums; personality. Collections is
far more personal set, it feels like an album that the band really enjoyed
making, and that flair comes across in the material itself. Tears Before Bedtime is a particularly
nice touch; with a simple, echoing piano component, and some quiet strings,
that soundtrack a series of crackly voicemail recordings. It doesn’t last long,
but it is a deft, soft song, one that would have been impossible on the colourless
clang of Acolyte. This cruises into
the infectiously optimistic The Sun Also
Rises which sees the bands RnB tendencies mingle with a soft pop melody,
ending with a driving, uplifting guitar line.
Passion Pit and MGMT echo on Memeo and Don’t
Let The Dreamers Take You Away, although of the two, only the latter effort
leaves a lasting impact. The album ends on a right clanger though, as Exotic sees the band drag us back to
some Ocean-esque rap, as if to say ‘Come
on guys we can really do rap!’. But they can’t, It just quite simply does
not work; there’s a reason The Horrors never embraced the work of Tupac.
So Collections
shouldn’t be burned at the stake as so many music publications would have you
believe; more galling than that is that most of the reviews criticising the
album hardly extend beyond a single paragraph. It’s this sort of half-hearted
disregard that can be a real put down for fresh, young bands, like
Delphic. Is this album as good as Acolyte? No, I would say it probably is
not. Sadly lacking is the guitar-interplay that made that album such a zinger;
no one moment on Collections can
match the unbounded euphoria that springs from the guitar breakdown in Doubt. The guitar-work added a real
grit, and it was their inclusion that gave Counterpoint
and Submission their anthemic status.
Collections is classed as a Dance
& DJ album and that makes you sceptical from the outset; Delphic are not a bloody DJ act. This is not a flawless
album, and Delphic have yet to make the album that will truly jettison them
into the stratosphere. But this is a light, breezy album, one that you need in
times like this, when the nature of the music business as we know it is in
jeopardy. It helps to be reminded of the
many very great talents active in the country. Similarly this is not the album
that people wanted Delphic to make. But this is a very young band, one that is
clearly enjoying travelling the world and soaking in different sounds and
textures. Considering most lads their age are doing exactly as they please,
with little clear direction, I don’t really see why we should expect any
different of Delphic. Collections is
hardly a classic, and it's an album not without its flaws. What it is, is a lavishly
produced, gratifyingly artistic album, an album that will hopefully one day
appear on the high street once more.
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