Our Rating 7/10

There is a particular kind of silence that happens just before morning. Not peaceful. Not calm. Suspended. That unsettled space is where Iarmhaireacht lives.

A little bit of an Irish language breakdown before we break into the music here: Iarmhaireacht comes from Irish Gaeilge. “Iar” means ‘after’ or ‘behind’. “Mhaireacht” relates to living, duration, or continued existence. So “iarmhaireacht” loosely translates as “aftermath” or “the state of continuing on after something”. It carries a sense of lingering consequence. Not just what happened, but what remains. The echo. The residue. The emotional hangover.

It is not a light word. It implies endurance after impact. Survival after rupture. Something has occurred and now you are living in its shadow.

That makes it a very deliberate title for a heavy EP like this. It suggests these songs are not about the explosion. They are about what comes after the explosion. The smoke in the air. The nervous system recalibrating.

Irish as a language is poetic like that. It does not hand you neat dictionary boxes. It hands you an atmosphere. And that is what this band delivers…

Nerves have never been interested in comfort, but this EP sharpens their instinct for tension into something more psychological. The title, rooted in the Irish language we just broke down, suggests aftermath or lingering consequence. That feels right. These songs do not explode and disappear. They hang in the air. They stain.

From the opening moments, the atmosphere is claustrophobic but controlled. Guitars grind rather than shimmer. The rhythm section does not simply keep time, it stalks it. There is a sense of forward motion that feels less like propulsion and more like being pushed down a corridor you did not choose to enter.

“Takes A Second” plays with restraint before cracking open. The band understand that heaviness is not just about volume. It is about pressure. They build that pressure patiently, letting distortion creep rather than crash. When it finally lands, it feels earned.

“Dirty Fingers” shifts the mood. There is a swagger to it, almost confrontational, but it never tips into parody. The riffs are jagged and sharp, and the vocal delivery carries both defiance and something close to exhaustion. That duality is where Nerves are strongest. They do not posture. They sound like they mean it.

“Through My Chest” is the emotional centre. It broods. It lingers. The guitars stretch out into something almost cinematic before snapping back into abrasion. There is vulnerability buried under the noise, and that tension between exposure and aggression gives the track weight.

“Act of Contrition” leans into atmosphere, allowing space between the blows. Subtle textures hover in the background before the distortion returns, reminding you that this band are not chasing melody for its own sake. They are sculpting unease.

By the time “Don’t Let Go” closes the EP, the mood has shifted from confrontation to something closer to reckoning. There is rhythm you can move to, but it feels uneasy, like dancing in low light with something unresolved. The closing moments do not offer release. They leave you suspended again.

What makes Iarmhaireacht compelling is its sense of cohesion. This is not a collection of loud tracks thrown together. It feels deliberate, considered, intentional. The production is tight without sanding off the edges. The noise is purposeful.

Irish heavy music has always thrived in the margins, in basements, in rehearsal rooms where the walls shake. Nerves sound like they know exactly where they come from, but they are pushing beyond it. This EP is not chaos for chaos’ sake. It is tension as language.

It does not soothe. It does not flatter. It lingers. And that is precisely the point. Check out the music for yourself here.