We've been here before. We've talked at length about late '60s pastiche, about Ariel Pink and the witting slaves of the giant, disembodied Syd Barratt godhead that even now is spouting multicoloured plumes of Psych from its new spawning ground eight miles high, hovering along the line of the San Andreas fault. Everywhere around the world, people are losing their minds. Kanye is wearing tie dye.

The outbreak may be spontaneous, but for most the results are very much the opposite of that. The proponents are not loose-limbed studio wasters, they can actually compose. Some are even - stop the press! - programming beats.

To be fair to him, Morgan Delt is very, very proficient, nailing the '67 sound while injecting a dose of discipline that many imitators miss (and there are many, many, many...). The recently issued 'Obstacle Eyes' introduced him as a missing link between the preening Mod and the Manson Family member, an expertly cut suit exploding into a Tim Burton costume design from Alice In Wonderland. The artifice is impeccable.

And so is much of the music. 'Barbarian Kings' is funky and delusional and conspiracy-mad, a wild-eyed but razor sharp first step. 'Beneath the Black and Purple' is Jefferson Airplane. In every way, it just is. 'Mr Carbon Copy' may or may not be an ironic title, bearing in mind its fusion of Jethro Tull and the Groundhogs. All fine - the skill is there for everyone to see.

So we get a set of short-sharpish group hallucinations, presided over by a very prescriptive boss. But surely every trip has to have that freaked out, finger-melting core, where the listener loses all sense of time and place and everything plateaus onto a Lost World of reptiles and backwards talking knights? Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas gave us the 'do they pay you to fuck that polar bear?' sequence - it's the standard 'centre-ing' tool that makes what surrounds it all the more insane by its apparent normality. How do you tell a real freak? He's the one who knows when to expect all the different waves to strike.

In place of the vortex, we get the chunky 'Chakra Sharks' - what Miles Kane must hear when he listens to his own music - and 'Little Zombies', the Bees copying the Byrds copying... to infinity. It's fitting for a movement, the visual aspect of which is characterised by totemic repetition, by resurrection and rebirth, that we should observe ever more frequent flowerings. 'Tropicana' is probably the most exciting, and most un-Psych thing here (honestly though, it's not far removed). Never mind. As the Dude said: if you don't dig it... well, that's... like, just your opinion or something man.

So perhaps, at heart, Morgan is not quite joining us on our Journey To The East. He may prefer to watch; like a resurrected Timothy Leary taking notes while his test subjects lose their minds. Edan's engineering of the monumental 'Beauty and the Beat' is only as skilful as this, and spare a thought - that is an entirely sampled work. In its own way, so is Morgan Delt's work.