There’s something to be said for your originality when you’re a member of the only group iTunes puts in the “Witch Candy Pop” genre. That’s why Black Moth Super Rainbow frontman Tobacco has become regarded as one of the most unpredictable artists on the Anticon label. His second album, the delightfully trippy “Maniac Meat,” is proof that hip-hop and psychedelia can exist in the same worlds. Tobacco, né Tom Fec, became recognized for his vocoder-treated lyrics in Black Moth, but skews toward beat-heavy, hip-hop-inspired bursts in his solo work. With songs that rarely run past three minutes, “Maniac Meat” is a punchy 16-song album that draws on shards of disco, electro, rap, garage, house, and psychedelic rock.

Take opening banger “Constellation Dirtbike Head.” The track’s ‘60s R&B drums clash with squelching synths and electronic bleeps, but they all build into a punky, roller-rink-meets-Peaches chorus. The lyrics are straight from the Black Moth playbook, though: “don’t eat the berries around you,” he warns.

The biggest “story” around the album is the fact that Fec snagged the hyper-productive Beck to collaborate on a few tracks, the best of which is the album’s second song, “Fresh Hex.” It’s probably the most obviously “hip-hop” song on the record, but, like everything Tobacco does, it can’t be neatly categorized into a genre. The melodies on the song are built out of 8-bit arpeggios and grinding bass synths and Beck’s corroded raps require repeated listening. Before you can get used to the song’s atmosphere, though, it’s over—a pretty common pattern on Tobacco records.

Tobacco has said in interviews that he’s heavily inspired by workout tapes, ‘70s rollerdisco music, and Richard Simmons, which is apparent from songs like “Nuclear Waste Aerobics,” “Overheater,” and “Creepy Phone Calls,” all of which build on the tension between decaying synths and feel-good ‘70s rhythms. “Sweatmother” is the musical equivalent of being undressed by someone else’s eyes, and “Motorlicker” features grimy, shifting bass that would be right at home on My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless.”

The most rewarding and frustrating part of the record is that these songs hit and retreat before they can really sink in your brain. “Fresh Hex,” for one, should be much longer than its one minute and 35 seconds, while “Overheater” has just enough time to grab you by the throat before passing. Part of the joy of hearing “Maniac Meat” is the number of repeated listens the album needs to be “understood,” although understanding Tobacco’s universe is admittedly difficult. “Constellation Dirtbike Head” also tells you to “burn all your things”; in “Overheater,” which is probably the closest thing Tobacco has ever made to a love song, he tells you to “make me into a milkshake.” Diving into the world of “Maniac Meat” is disorienting but rewarding, like the best experimental music. If this album is any indication, Tobacco’s work has no ceiling.