An armadillo tank emerges fully-formed from a volcano, rolls its ponderous way across the wasteland, battles weaponized pteranodons and grasshoppers and a mythical manticore, and then retreats into the sea. Ugly chaotic classical stabs, discordant bursts of guitar, and overdriven organs chronicle its seemingly endless journey. It makes no goddamn sense but the album art rules. Basically Side A is everything that punkers hated about prog rock while at the same time everything glorious about it. The B side has actual songs.