Splicing New Order’s patent Mancunian brand of indie disco intellectualism with the unbound, arms aloft euphoria of Orbital or the Chemical Brothers. Muse gone minimal, or Kasabian on Kompakt, a debut album of ecstatic everyman anthems equally at home on a main stage or lost out in the middle of the floor.

Produced with the Berlin-based techno émigré Ewan Pearson, it was recorded mostly in Pearson’s Berlin studio, the city’s flourishing techno scene bleeding into the crisp grooves but never to the detriment of the band’s emotive songwriting. Whether on the explosively percussive ‘Clarion Call’, the lost longing of ‘Submission’, the sheer contagiousness of ‘Halcyon’ or the epic scope of the title track, Delphic consistently demonstrate their ability to write massive songs is equal to their ability to build bangin’ beats. “With a lot of dance albums, you search out the singles but the rest is all a bit samey and boring,” says Matt, “We wrote the album as a whole and weren’t afraid to lower the tempos and concentrate on the songs.”

On stage, their glorious hard-wired gene pool of anthemic indie and stadium techno comes into its own, driving along like a perfectly pitched DJ set and where other bands pause to sip their riders between songs, Delphic slip in hypnotic driving techno interludes that turn any gigs into a rave.

Obsessive fans of the highly metaphysical films of 70s Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky as much as they are the punishing techno of Surgeon and the emotionally experimental spirit of Radiohead, Delphic’s combination of high art aspiration and party spirit is very Manchester and Delphic are well marinated in the Factory city’s classic collision of ordinary bloke-ness with highend ideals. It’s a heritage they’re happy to acknowledge. “Even though it’s had a cosmetic facelift, there’s a certain vibe to Manchester,” says Rick. “There’s a challenge set down by Manchester’s heritage” Matt puts in, “and we want to look at how that applies to us, where to take that legacy, even surpass it.”