The word “punk” is added to any description of Boston’s Mission of Burma, but the term is far too limiting for what the band accomplished in the early 1980s. Mission of Burma always needed prefixes: It was “art punk,” “prog punk,” and “experimental punk” – loud and raw, yes, but always with an unexpected twist.

In its heyday, Mission of Burma featured the off-kilter rhythms of bassist-singer Clint Conley and drummer Peter Prescott, the tape loops of Martin Swope, a shadowy student of the avant-garde, and shouted lyrics about odd subjects like Dada painters from singer and guitarist Roger Miller. No one else sounded like it.

No one at the time, anyway. By the end of the 1980s, a lot of bands resembled some version of Mission of Burma. It became a ready template for experimental indie rock.

Having recorded just one full-length record, an EP, and some singles, Mission of Burma disbanded in 1983 because its famously loud shows were doing a number on Miller’s hearing. But through a fortuitous string of events, the band began playing reunion gigs in 2002 and eventually re-formed to record “OnoffON” for Matador in 2004.

Critics and fans hailed the album as a return to form.The band sounded no more “mature” and no less vital than it had two decades earlier; in every way that mattered, “OnoffON” picked up where 1982’s “Vs.” left off.

Still, “OnoffON” was a “comeback” album, which made it hard to judge on its own merits. Was it as good as it sounded at the time?

Two years later, another set of songs brings another test of the band’s viability, and this time there can be no doubt. “The Obliterati” (Matador) finds Mission of Burma’s diamond-hard sense of quality control intact and proves that the band has lost not a whit of energy or taste for noisy experimentation.

Bob Weston has again filled in for Swope as the band’s tape manipulator and recording engineer. Weston’s long tenure alongside Steve Albini in the edgy band Shellac makes him an ideal accomplice, and his contribution is key. In Mission of Burma’s early material, done on a modest budget, the production didn’t always rise to the challenge of the songs. Here, the presentation of its spiky configurations is exquisite.

The sound asserts itself immediately. Prescott’s drums open the album solo, booming from the speakers to introduce Conley’s “2wice.” The rest of the song showcases Mission of Burma at its melodic extreme, as a chorus hook echoes the power pop Conley has been making in his band Consonant. Is this an attempt to draw in the unconverted, perhaps? If so, it’s a good one.

Miller follows with “Spider’s Web,” a song for the true believers. His blunted saw of a guitar riff cuts the tune in half as the rhythm section engages in tricky stop-start tempo changes.

“Donna Sumeria” is an even wider-breaking curveball. Opening with a 4/4 bass drum from the disco songbook, it slyly (and beautifully) quotes Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” in the middle of Miller’s snarling guitar, draping the familiar refrain like a glittery dress over a twisted metal sculpture. It’s a provocative move for a band that came of age during the post-disco hangover – tinged with irony, perhaps, but there’s also a dose of celebration.

“Donna Sumeria” shows the humor that has always been a vital but understated component of Mission of Burma’s style.The final song, “Nancy Reagan’s Head,” is more explicit, a rare tip of the hand for a band that traffics in suggestion. As Weston mixes in loops of martial choirs to accompany Miller’s strangled chords, Conley strings together absurdist couplets (“Roxy Music came to save the world and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”), concluding with a line about being haunted by the disproportionately large noggin’ of the former first lady.

Before Mission of Burma’s reunion, the band was seen as a victim of bad timing. The nascent network of indie college radio and alternative venues that developed in the 1980s was filled with yawning cracks into which forward-thinking bands like this fell. Years later, however, Mission of Burma has an audience ready for its sound, an independent label with excellent distribution, and a climate that has absorbed its innovations without exhausting its ideas. The stars have aligned and Mission of Burma is stepping up, with plenty of great musicmaking left.

July 14 at Warsaw (261 Driggs Avenue, between Eckford Street and Graham Avenue, Brooklyn, 718-387-0505).