If Egyptian Hip Hop were from London, Birmingham, or anywhere else in the UK, the bombastic synth opening of ‘Moon Crooner’ probably wouldn’t have that much significance. But because they’re from one of the boroughs of Greater Manchester, immediately there are echoes of all the ghosts that it was thought the city had put to bed – the Hacienda, Madchester, the mad for it masses and all that they embody.

The truth is, Egyptian Hip Hop are not one of the many, many revivalist bands that the rainy city has given birth to. Over the course of the past year or so, they’ve set bedroom blogs across the globe alight with a series of impressive demos. Whilst many dwelt on their age (all members are still someway shy of coming out of their teens), or on their haircuts (a kind of 4 man tour through hipster chic) it‘s the sounds they created that have always been most notable.

Their early works were subtle, nuanced and somewhat subdued, which makes the opening chimes of their debut EP even more surprising. In your face and delivered with a crisp authority, the opening strains of ‘Moon Crooner’ are a far cry from the hazy bedroom recorded tracks that earned them their name. Some Reptiles Developed Wings is, in many ways, the band’s coming of age. For the first time, they’ve been given access to the kind of tools befitting of their status as one of the country’s brightest emerging talents, and it’s a shift that certainly must’ve affected the way the band approaching the making of these tracks.

Whilst many may have faltered at the jump, it’s something that Egyptian hip hop have just about taken in their stride. Though their experimental charm is retained, there’s definitely been a shift in aesthetic, possibly aided by having Glaswegian super-producer Hudson Mohawke at the tiller. Nevertheless, this is still a body of work by a gifted group of young men with impeccable taste and undoubted talents. This is hipster pop in its fullest glory, expansive, wide eyed and desperate to show off its brilliance.

The stylistic changes, for many, may be somewhat jarring. In many ways, this is an EP more likely to appeal to the more well meaning listeners of Radio 1 than the raft of Pitchfork mimicking blogs. However, though the distortion and wonky recordings may be gone, the innovation is not. The new slant on production values over homespun lo-fi efforts even reveals the band to be talented lyricists, with fan favourite ‘Rad Pitt’ given new depth and meaning when you can fully decipher what singer Alexander Hewitt is trying to say.

Whilst there may fragments of these 18 minutes that sound as though they could be part of the Factory back catalogue, there’s so much more going on aside from that. There are few bands that would choose their first major release to debut a 5 minute long progressive, electronic instrumental, and even less would be able to pull it off. But ‘Middle Name Period’ pulls the record together as it relentlessly builds and experiments, darting with energy and ideas, a certain sign of the band’s potential to be stars without having to even flirt with selling out.