Nerve Endings Love Muddy Puddles!

Local indie-rock outfit, Nerve Endings have a debut single, out last week…..

At the distal end of every axon lies the conclusion to a nerve. They message sensory neurons, bleating “you’re hot,” “or cold,” or “oi, that hurts!” Around these waters a personification are the nociceptors of noise, chiefly guitarist and lead vocalist Mike Barham, bassist and vocalist Rob McKelvey and drummer boy, Luke Bartels, and their stimuli definitely sends threat signals on the ears, in a premium possible manner.

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When they step on stage expect a little horseplay, then an explosive set of twisted blues riffs combining the elements of all contemporary alternative and indie rock subgenres. It leaves one intrigued by the news, which was drunkenly fed to me one summer’s evening at the Southgate, what will become of the progression towards recording the sound; we now have confirmation. Muddy Puddles is a Peppa Pig free song, which howls all that’s prodigious about Nerve Endings; unless Peppa is one who wears her heart on her sleeve.

Players, I shit them. Relationship annoyance by those who view romance as a sport, if being an archetypical subject, this alarm-ringing debut single of thrashing guitar riffs, with howling vocals that meet a near-sixties blues melody composes it with freshness. And as the gritty theme takes no prisoners, wailing “you won’t change, get your head out your arse and you might see,” analogous of actual nerve endings, sending a powerful warning to those who dig the dagger deeper into their victim’s heart. The result is boundless energy I might’ve expected, but executed professionally and agreeably adroit; great start to the year, guys!

See, I once pondered if the rave era ended youth culture as without conviction, I couldn’t assess any post-genre apt for the idiom. Perhaps the most stimulating conversation I’ve had with Mr Mike Barham, over a decade my junior, was at a Saddleback Festival, where he proclaimed grunge and emo proceeded my era. I was saturated in the fact younger people considered them youth cultures, concluding just like the teddy boys, punks and skinheads before me, my epoch was blindly trapped in the renaissance of a particular era.

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For the record I wouldn’t change it for the world, we partied harder, faster and longer than any predecessor, and I’d like to wager more than any “emo,” whatever that was, had to Google! Yet his statement not only aided new exploration in me, but a liking for this gentle giant who explodes with passion and fiery temperament when on stage. A specific style of the genre, that much I am aware. I know who Kurt Cobain was pal, blanketed by an era maybe, but not living on the moon; just a few miles closer to Earth.

My eclectic taste was never faulted by the overindulgence of the youth culture which engulfed me for a period, and I emerge open-minded and prepared to accept anything. Intrigue took me to a Bowling For Soup gig at Bristol’s O2, that and my son’s need of a lift. Yet if I felt out of place, searching for another sober, taxi-driving Dad as youths collapsed in the heat and the frontman made stagediving a cliché, I still enjoyed it. As is Nerve Endings, I’m not dying my hair black with a neon streak, neither are they, but this rocks with competence, appetite and enjoyability.

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Here’s the spotty-fly link, I know my system needs updating, here’s one if you’ve an apple; but Mike, thanks to my son’s Christmas present I now know where Bowser’s Castle is, and I like it; getting there, I just take the long way around!


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