There is a Mahlerian tone to it, which opens with a bracing blast of brass before haring off on a visceral journey of hairpin changes of direction.
But if "The Music Man" is a John Philip Sousa-style blast of brass, "110" is an Aaron Copland-esque twang of fiddle strings.
In the last section, the blast of brass in the orchestra, conducted at an equally exciting pitch by Hugo Fiorato, led into a march.
A euphoric blast of brass introduces A Shropshire Lad, the story of Captain Matthew Webb, the first man to swim the English Channel, who finally perished in Niagara Falls – although Betjeman has him snuff it in an English canal.
Without Beyoncé, born in 1981, the sound of the 21st century would be missing a key blast of brass, absent a singular love eruption of era-defining proportions and lost without a top Jay Z verse.
Featuring blasts of brass, scratchy guitars and percolating synth noise, it's drenched in the band's typical sense of paranoia but somehow sounds more relaxed.
In addition, the original Desertshore album is so sparse it allows a lot of room for interpretation: its spaces are filled here by clanking rhythm tracks, droning synthesisers, bursts of fearsome guitar noise and mournful, foghorn-like blasts of brass.
It seems rooted in the dreamy exotica of Martin Denny - the backing sounds like shimmering steel drums, there's a woozy, wordless vocal chorus - disrupted by startling blasts of brass.
In "Gruppen," he scrupulously avoids writing discernible themes — each instrument seems to be scurrying along its own twisting path — and yet the disparate sounds add up to textures of strongly defined character: insectoid swarms of string pizzicato, birdlike twitterings of upper-register winds, armor-plated blasts of brass.
This further cut from Back to the World sheds the minor-key bleak-funk, delivering instead three minutes of gladdening, soul-slaking, upbeat pop, with a wriggling and irresistible rhythm track, and booming blasts of brass that feel like bolts of sunshine between the blankets of grey.
Moreover, it's hugely effective, sweeping you along from a tense opening, underpinned by sounds that flutter and oscillate like helicopter blades, into a panicky climax – martial blasts of brass and cymbals, squealing synthesiser – before fading into a long coda built from chattering voices and something that sounds not unlike a church organ.
