Much like they did to close out their career, XTC followed up a pastoral “chug through the countryside,” as Andy Partridge described 1983’s Mummer, with a loud, brash, foul-tempered ogre of an album. And just as with Wasp Star, they ended up with a bit of a mess on their hands.

It all comes down to how ugly this record sounds. Or, to use Partridge’s words, Big Express was “an iron opera, steam powered and brick encased.” In other words, it sounds like a band trying to be heard over the din of a locomotive or submarine engine, with clanging and hissing in the background, a thin layer of soot covering everything, and all the overdriven instruments and vocal work peaking into the red.

This sneaks by Nonsuch and Wasp Star by dint of its momentum — the album takes the cue of its title and moves forward at a perfect cruising speed — and how they manage to use this sonic morass to the advantage of the songs here. Lead single “All You Pretty Girls” needs the raucous attitude and stomping percussion to help aid in its goal of becoming a modern-day sea shanty, and the dissonance between the lighter melodies of “This World Over” and “I Remember The Sun” and the music’s cumbersome girth is quite impressive. Even a song as overwrought as “Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her, Kiss Her” pleasantly sticks with you, even if its burbling vocal effects and smokestack organ playing threaten its bonhomie.

Conversely, The Big Express also turns out to carry some of Partridge and Moulding’s most dour songs. There’s plenty of anger thrown towards the military-industrial complex (“This World Over,” “Reign Of Blows”) as well as XTC’s shady former manager (“I Bought Myself A Liarbird”). All welcome subjects, but once the romantic tunes are dispensed with, the unrelenting vitriol starts to put unwanted tension in your shoulders.