REVIEW: Nerves - Iarmhaireacht

County Mayo’s Nerves have only just released their first EP as a four piece, and their second EP at all, but are already unnerving plenty of listeners who are willing to try out the harrowing post-punk experience that is their debut record Iarmhaireacht. Translated from Gaelic, the title means “that uncanny loneliness you feel at first light”, which is as apt a title as could be - the record takes you through such themes as the Irish housing crisis, emigration, mental health problems, Catholic guilt, substance issues, and the loss of love, to an eerie soundtrack of droning synths and guitars, incessant yet ghostly drums, and ragged vocals. The record only truly comprises five songs, with three additional interludes all titled in Irish - one of many small details that make this record feel birthed out of the mourning Irish hillsides. The songs themselves are more intimately personal, acting like diary entries talking through the slipping sanity of the protagonist, whilst the interludes show the wider issues that may well be causing that deeply personal fall.

It’s not always worth looking at, or even considering, a record’s front cover; here though, it’s most definitely worth taking the time to observe things a little closer. In a neutral mix of greys, a mournful procession of ghostly figures - anyone versed in Irish tradition will recognise them as Wren Boys, men and boys in a traditional garb of straw hats and white outfits for a procession with a captured wren, making their slow and steady way to the top of a not-quite-right hill by way of a few sharply turning paths, leading to a devilish or demonic figure. The title of the record is scratched out in Ogham script, another nod to the heritage of their country that’s been slowly pushed out of existence by various governments and ruling parties. All this combined with the lyrical content paints a haunting picture of modern Ireland’s loss of its own culture and historical legacy; a country mourning the loss of itself and its own ways.

Making our way into the album proper, we first arrive at a daunting interlude by the name of ‘iarthar’. It takes just 46 seconds to go from that into the first full song proper, ‘Takes a Second’, which is possibly the most difficult of the five to wrench from within your head once it’s nestled there. Full of abrasion, discordance, droning and repetition, the track aches and insists upon making the listener feel something, whether that’s to make them uncomfortable, make them feel the horrible weight of guilt, or even make them feel seen and understood. ‘Dirty Fingers’ takes the stage next, and is the shortest of the full tracks, just shy of three minutes long. Keeping up with the efforts at making every agonising second an eternity, the quartet deal with substance abuse, self esteem issues and mental health problems in a manner that will, sadly, resonate with many who’ve been left by their partner.

‘Through My Chest’ rumbles into life afterwards, building and growing and evolving into a grotesquely alarming piece about hope, lies, betrayal, love and the lack of it. The guitars ring in a klaxon tone as screams of “I see ya!” ring out, vocalist Kyle Thornton almost condemning the listener as the one being observed and found guilty, before the second interlude ‘iarmhar’ gives us a brief moment to breathe, and take in the vast bleakness all around. ‘Act of Contrition’ doesn’t give much time to rest though, delving into the funeral and wake of the protagonist’s former partner, and the agonising experience it can bring. With moments of vast sonic power amidst a sea of floating guitars and soft drums, the music perfectly encapsulates the helplessness felt.

A final interlude meets us before the last track proper - ‘néifinn’ takes less than 40 seconds to talk about Ireland’s forgotten lands before ‘Don’t Let Go’ tiptoes into life. A slow beginning to the six minute track that feels like the gap between sleep and worse, Nerves build their way into the finale of their devastatingly powerful EP that hangs in the air like a clogging mist, but is never quite close enough to touch. Industrial drums and droning guitars finally break through the tension, to release any pent up emotion into a pained final howl of love and loss and anguished sorrow. The final lyrics heard, again repeated in that helpless manner that can’t be stopped after a tragedy, are “I don’t wanna let go”, which wraps up Iarmhaireacht with a door slam that reeks of finality.

Iarmhaireacht is a Pandora’s Box of emotional pain and sorrow - with discussions of both country-wide and deeply intimate pains and issues, Nerves have concocted a brew that won’t easily be forgotten or topped. Their haunting noise punk cum industrial drone via haunting atmospheric post rock is a trip that takes the listener down the very dark hallway of a life undone by a multitude of societal and personal problems, all to a soundtrack that empowers those most wretched of emotions to wrack you with guilt unheard.

Score: 9/10

Iarmhaireacht was released on August 15th 2025.

Words: Jasmine Longhurst

Photos: Nerves