Eric Moore, Gizz manager and one of two drummers, runs his Flightless record label from the next desk. Shelves are packed with vinyl shipped in from a pressing plant in the Czech Republic. Records by the Murlocs, Orb and other local friends spill from boxes. "We've been rehearsing here for a couple of days so it's pretty messy," Mackenzie says with a note of apology as he and Moore retire to talk in a back room strewn with the usual detritus of strings, wires, black boxes and mysterious instruments. "This one's cool." He flicks his nail across a weird electric guitar with a modified fretboard that opens the traditional 12-note scale into a potentially infinite spread of microtones. There's a Turkish baglama that conjures similar invocations of the unfathomable. Next door to "the music zone" is "the recording zone": another alcove, really, with carpet tiles tacked to the walls and a vintage eight-track tape machine in a desk-load of rubble. "We've been making a record in here over the last couple of months," Mackenzie says. Course they have. Nonagon Infinity has been out since April.

Moore settles into a corner. "We said from day one that we wanted to do two albums a year and that's what we've done," he says. "The main focus of the band was to make recordings and not be restricted by anything. "As a young band, people always tell you not to do stuff, which is kind of strange. It's always 'No, you can't do that' and 'People don't do it like that'. We were just like, well, we can do whatever we want." Back then, the Gizz was a trio with second guitarist Joey Walker. An RMIT music course was the nucleus that gradually drew in Skinner, Cook Craig, Michael Cavanagh and Ambrose Kenny-Smith: a guitar-heavy ensemble that morphed into a flutey summer of love on Paper Mache Dream Balloon before this year's high velocity freak-out. "This has definitely been the most challenging record to write and record," Mackenzie says. "It was challenging to learn the songs cause there's a lot of time signature changes and super fast drumming… A lot of the time the songs were conceptualised even before they were written."

Hmmm, conceptualised. It's a kind of code word in a rock'n'roll context, especially when psychedelic microtones and collectible vinyl pressing are involved. On the headphone index, Nonagon Infinity doesn't disappoint. Musical motifs recur. Lyrics read like dream-state flashes. Most bodaciously, in the epic tradition of Pink Floyd's The Wall and Queen's A Day At The Races, the last movement of side two leads seamlessly back into the first movement of side one – "like a sonic mobius strip". Dude. Infinity. Get it? "We wanted to build a landscape, or a world," Mackenzie explains of the nine-song cycle stacked with robots, wasps, crocs, wolves, vultures and evil machinery. "It's not like a narrative. There's no storyline. It's a landscape and you're inside it and you can look around 360 [degrees] and in every direction there's some other feature…" That wants to kill you? "… that potentially wants to kill you, yeah. I guess the music we were making, to me, was pretty aggressive and pretty scary and I think that's just what kept popping out of my mouth."

The really ingenious dimension to this concept is the mobius strip created between art and life. The looping bookends, Robot Stop and Road Train, are nightmare visions of life on the rock'n'roll road. In between, Mackenzie's agitated stream of consciousness witnesses People-Vultures "waiting at my stage/wild dogs escaping from their cage". In the frantic thrash of Big Fig Wasp he confesses, "I'm up here for the weirdo swarm." "I guess I was at a show and it was full of people-vultures," he says, cheekbones in full smirk. "It's not supposed to be negative. We love those weirdo kids, obviously." Obviously. This is music inspired by the extraordinary sensory experience of being in a band that inspires an extraordinary sensory experience. And it's designed to inspire an extraordinary sensory experience in those that inspired its design. "I think there's still some [tickets] for the third night," Moore says of the band's looming triple-night stand in Melbourne. "We're gonna have some DJs [in the front bar]; ask a few friends to play, make it a big night. I think this tour will be the first time we actually play all the songs off the record."

But don't dream that means it's finite. "It's actually gonna be different," Mackenzie says, muttering about "some other elements" taking shape in rehearsals. "The record was not finished, if you know what I mean. We've kind of been revisiting this landscape. A lot of the versions of the songs are quite similar but there are other pieces involved and they'll be on further records. It's not like we can make Nonagon Infinity Part II. But I think we're gonna get back into that world." King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard play the Croxton Park Hotel in Thornbury on July 8, 9 and 10; Karova Lounge in Ballarat on July 16; Barwon Club in Geelong on July 17; Splendour in the Grass in Byron Bay on July 23; Oxford Art Factory in Sydney on August 4, the Metro in Sydney on August 5; and Unibar in Wollongong on August 6. Support from Orb.