The strangely disparate seeds of Fly Golden Eagle’s second studio album, the psychedelic double-LP Quartz, are part of a “messianic pilgrimage” that nods to Jesus, punk-Buddhist meditation and Steve Jobs’ failed journey to visit a Hindu holy man. But the most crucial inspiration for this mindmelting project is “alchemy,” says frontman Ben Trimble, the idea of “turning what you have into something that’s worth more than what you started with.” It’s the perfect summation of the expansive Quartz—and its unconventional birth.

Trimble crafted his debut Eagle LP, 2011’s sex-obsessed Swagger, as a singular vision, recording all the sounds in his bedroom. But for his follow-up, he aimed to revolutionize his creative process, recruiting his bandmates (keyboardist Mitch Jones, bassist Matt Shaw, drummer Richard Harper) and decamping from Nashville, Tenn., to the semi-functional but non-operational Westminster College in Tehuacana, Texas. There, joined periodically by friends, they planted roots in old dorm rooms and recorded in a massive, three-story theater with 40-foot stained-glass windows, battling leaky ceilings and eerie bursts of wind.

“It was total communal living,” Trimble says. “We’d make breakfast, then record in a couple of different jam rooms. At night, we’d eat dinner by candlelight.”

The hippie-styled digs offered a suitable atmosphere for the frontman’s freewheeling songs, which synch up thematically as a pseudo-score for the 1973 cult film The Holy Mountain, Alejandro Jodorowsky’s experimental potpourri of mangled Christian imagery. “Within 20 minutes of watching the movie, I just hit pause,” Trimble says. “I could hear stuff as crazy as what I was hearing visually—but not the soundtrack.”

The 26-track Quartz—along with its condensed offspring, Quartz Bijou—is driven by sonic and spiritual curiosity, veering from swampy soul-punk (“Stepping Stone”) to groove-heavy space-rock fantasia. (“Magic Steven” is a story about a broke and sick Steve Jobs trekking to India in the ‘70s in search of Hindu leader Neem Karoli Baba, only to realize he’s dead.) “Musically, I wanted to build up to the hill and find this transcendental spot where you realize your guru has died,” Trimble says.

With Quartz, Fly Golden Eagle discovered alchemy and, if these songs are any indication, then they’ve cemented the first true chapter of a long and weirdly engrossing career.