Following up last year's Kenny Dennis EP, Chicago rapper David Cohn (aka Serengeti), is priming the fifth instalment in his saga of fictional enigma, the ubiquitous Kenny Dennis – the mid-forties, epically moustachioed, meat-lovin', baseball crazy Brian Dennehy stan – via the Kenny Dennis LP; it's designed to flesh out the chronology of Serengeti's weird alter-ego and fantasy land. It's been a wild, nonsensical ride so far, filled with funk samples and broken hip-hop beats and lyrics ranging from the inane (there's a song about ribs, called 'Rib Tips' available), to the baffling – like feud with Shaquille O'Neal, for example. Suffice it to say, this is not your garden-variety rap, and it's like to elicit one of two reactions: this, or this.

On the LP, there's plenty of avante-garde hip-hop offerings. Take 'Punks', a jittery 90s rap cut; Cohn blurts "Punks, punks... the punks" in a sounds-like-but-not-actually South African drawl against slimy lounge-jazz samples. There's mauled piano and fractured percussion at every turn. 'Bang Em' again has sparse reverby drums, but this time features disjointed experimental brass behind such lyrical gold as "Miles, Davis, Potatoes, Carrots..." Towards the end of the track, record scratches and psych-rock stabs envelop Cohn's words, and the result is a strange hallucinogenic version of the Beastie Boys.

One of the main features of Cohn's work as Serengeti is dark, wry humour. Though often flippant, he's never one to necessarily point out that this is comedy-rap. He's assumed the character of Dennis with more dedication than method actors like Bryan Cranston or De Niro; he doesn't exactly own the same theatrical prowess, but his rigid conviction to the character (who himself has an alter-ego [cue Inception reference]) and the world that he inhabits cannot be faulted. Whether you 'get' or appreciate his off-kilter brand of surreal comedy or not, you can't flaw his persistence. There's no Jim Carrey OTT-ness or slapstick shenanigans going on here, and even when Cohn raps about laser tag ('Laser Tag'), it's difficult to gauge his seriousness through Kenny Dennis. Though it's calculated to be very silly, there's still a part of you that thinks he may just be completely off his rocker.

Opener 'Flows' has laid-back stoner-rap in abundance. It's a languid, stream of consciousness mess, spacey synths and calamitous percussion all sticking out at jagged angles as Cohn's flow dribbles out in deranged bursts. 'Fireworks' has a distorted lo-fi beat and howling psych samples, both congealing and chugging along like some amorphous doom-hop blob while spoken word rambling floats over the top. 'Crush Em' is lazy, sunny LA-style rap: funky bass walks underneath hacked Disney strings and Motown samples; it's a sort of Sunday morning hip-hop. It's pretty chilled out, smothered in a smoky haze and an opiate drizzle.

If you've never been a fan of what Serengeti does, then this isn't likely to win you over. In fact, if you've not been following the Kenny Dennis story, it's unlikely to win you over. This record is catering for a very niche audience, and though there are moments of utter brilliance, it's difficult to get into unless you've been with Cohn since the beginning. It's essentially a chapter of a serial; you wouldn't leap into Game Of Thrones midway through season three and instantly understand the themes and in-jokes and inner workings of the characters, and you won't with the Kenny Dennis LP either. But, if you have been tagging along with Cohn as he slowly unravels the story, then this is a thrilling, occasionally hilarious, largely off-the-wall collection of Dennis' anecdotes and odd musings. The bottom line: if you already appreciate Serengeti, you'll enjoy this.