Re-appropriating the terms ‘hyper’, ‘super’ and ‘mega’ from what they term the ‘stark superlatives of consumerism’ the duo redeploy these prefixes to analyse and dissect the state of a decaying, dying and drying planet.

From ‘hyper-connectivity’ to ‘megalomania’ it’s a bleak assessment of mankind’s slavish devotion to technology, its blithe over-sharing of illusory ‘selves’ and a weary postmodern condition that shows no signs of abating that these Alchemical Brothers seek to address.

A lollapaloozing bouncy bassline permeates throughout, the vocals delivered in an echoing, submerged deep-sea effect that adds up to a far-out narcolep-trip replete with psyche-o-tropicalia, 60s wooze blues and ay, caramba samba. A heady brew.

Opener, the eponymous ‘Hyper Super Mega’ carries on from Tame Impala’s neu-disco-shuffle funk, where synaptic engagement is demanded from the get-go. ‘Waterfalls’ is zoned immaculate incarnate, a drawl and response toing and froing, a hushed ‘Baby ... don’t you cry’ to a seemingly uncontrollable bawling amor.

Named for the technique of Japanese floral arrangement ‘Ikebana Telephone Line’ is a florid Eastern concoction of connection, a dreampopped in souled out communication takedown.

The instrumentals ‘Lucifer’s Coat’ is a synthful and themonic Jean Michel Jarreing soundscaping ear-wall scaling whereas ‘Chevalier Soda’ channels The Olivia Tremor Control’s own psi-operation declarations.

‘I’ll only say this’ is a long-lost within without-take from The Beatles’s ‘Abbey Road’, Lennon’s nasal noise, George’s quiet fretting, Macca’s thumbs up beat-spine and Ringo’s percussive drum-thrum. A Mersey mercy beat.

This is an album to feel as well as hear, to spend time with not skim through, to get to know not judge its surface. A big album with intricate spaces, 11 songs of blissfully calm karmic spoonfuls of sonic tonics.