XTC in 1984 were not the chart-busting force they had been from 1978-1982 when their brand of angular but highly infectious pop regularly graced the charts. What many critics consider their finest album, the excellent English Settlement, had been released two years previously but since then there had been a few changes.
They no longer played live, the punishing schedule they’d endured for years had led to Andy Partridge suffering a stress related illness and taking the brave but creditable decision to quit touring for self-preservation. In a separate development, powerhouse drummer Terry Chambers had quit to start a new life in Australia, which left Partridge, Colin Moulding and Dave Gregory to operate a guerrilla rearguard in defence of musical innovation from their Swindon hide-out. This they have managed to do successfully into 21st Century, producing along the way rare album gems such as 1986’s Skylarking and 1999’s Apple Venus (which I think Andy Partridge would nominate as their best) and successfully going ‘on strike’ against their Virgin label.
A year earlier in 1983 XTC had released the pastorally triumphant Mummer, an album that still serves as the perfect foil to The Big Express, Venus to Mars in the Solar System of the XTC catalogue. Drums have always been so essential to the XTC sound and Pete Phipps had stepped in for Mummer and kept the stool for The Big Express, and what a performance he turned in. There is a distinct hammering beat throughout the album, with the drums seemingly higher in the mix as the sounds conjure pictures of this great steam engine powering through the mid-80s landscape. This image is reinforced by the cover shots of the band dressed as engine drivers and a wheel-shaped sleeve design that I misguidedly thought at the time would be rare.
Like all good train journeys, The Big Express begins in early morning with one of only two Moulding contributions, Wake Up. This is not one to ease yourself into the day with as the bleary-eyed commuter is smacked between the eyes with the sentiment, “Who cares, you might be dead”, as the realisation dawns with the day that you’re ultimately alone in a harsh world. Trademark Partridge guitar riffs clash with Dave Gregory’s piano to create a suitably unsettling opener which ends with the gentle choral encouragement to rouse oneself.
Reign of Blows (Vote No Violence) takes us deep into the reality of a world where super powers still fought each other, but just used other countries to do it in. “And iron maidens will slam, and by the half-light of burning republics, Joe Stalin looks just like Uncle Sam” captures the era perfectly and with a screaming guitar and thumping drums, you almost feel as if your pleasant train journey through the shires has suddenly taken a nasty diversion through the US invasion of Grenada.
Like all journeys, this one must come to an end but sadly there won’t be a happy ending. In fact, we’re heading for disaster, both mentally and physically as the thumping and creaking start of Train Running Low On Soul Coal soon gives way to the realisation that this train is out of control. In an instant, the concerns Andy Partridge feels about record company pressures, being seen as ‘old’ in the music business and the fate of the Swindon Works collide as he sings “I’m a thirty year old puppy doing what I’m told and I’m told there’s no more coal for the older engines”. This is a track of immense power and Dave Gregory later described the middle eight as the best thing the band had written up to that point and it is a thing of dark beauty as once again, the band create a vivid image with music that actually places you in the careering carriage as the “Hammer goes down, brakes all scream, me and a couple of empty carriages slide downhill, still, next stop bad dreams ville”. From: https://louderthanwar.com/the-big-express-by-xtc-a-thirtieth-anniversary-celebration/
