Bad Nerves Brings a Rock 'n' Roll Revolution to Philly
Underground Arts 5/9/2025
Words/Photos: Julia Hill
Passing through the red doors of the Callowhill St. venue in Philly, punk tore across the poster-covered walls, and rock n’ roll was alive. Wax Jaw and Spiritual Cramp, two bands with immense promise, opened the show with gallons of high-octane and tasty riffs. Keep an eye on what they have brewing. However, the main culprit of the night comes from across the pond and goes by the name of Bad Nerves.
Touring the U.S. with their second album, Still Nervous, under their belt, the band launched onto the stage with an electric punch you could feel in your fingertips and struck up their song, “Baby Drummer.” Sam Thompson is indeed no newborn behind his kit and laid down driving rhythms in a hurtling helter-skelter style alongside one of the most lively bassists I had the pleasure of witnessing (there was no hiding in the corner with a face exhibiting regretful life choices). Jonathan Poulton brought refreshing energy and a resonant pulse to the band, which served as a solid foundation. Followed by “Palace,” a catchy, 70s punkified pop tune that rolled and flared through the crowd, you couldn’t help but move. As the night matured, the lethal guitarists, William Phillipson and George Berry, played with gritty audaciousness and never stopped—loud, cunningly complex, and dizzyingly powerful. Lead singer Bobby Nerves, donning sunglasses and a dynamic vocal range, balanced an equal force of primal fury and acidic wails. There’s no mistaking that he is the frontman through and through, authentic and charming, and he rallied the crowd into a frenzy.
Bad Nerves created an atmosphere of undiluted liberation and understood the symbiotic relationship that arises between an audience and a band, both feeding off the blood-pumping chaos and sincerity that they presented to each other. Songs like “USA” and “Electric 88” demonstrated that Bad Nerves can write more than just a few melodic lines but have something to say about the prevailing state of the world. Their subtle statements speak to the dissatisfaction of the current generation while also provoking a sense of hope. There was sweat, there was laughter, gravity-defying jumps, moshing that will cause some well-earned bruises in the morning, a few noble endeavors at crowd surfing… all compelled by the music. And the music was kinetic.
To describe Bad Nerves in one sentence, it would be this: Raw attitude with musicianship that is sharp like a jackknife and hard-hitting like a Bruce Lee kick to the chest.
Touring the U.S. with their second album, Still Nervous, under their belt, the band launched onto the stage with an electric punch you could feel in your fingertips and struck up their song, “Baby Drummer.” Sam Thompson is indeed no newborn behind his kit and laid down driving rhythms in a hurtling helter-skelter style alongside one of the most lively bassists I had the pleasure of witnessing (there was no hiding in the corner with a face exhibiting regretful life choices). Jonathan Poulton brought refreshing energy and a resonant pulse to the band, which served as a solid foundation. Followed by “Palace,” a catchy, 70s punkified pop tune that rolled and flared through the crowd, you couldn’t help but move. As the night matured, the lethal guitarists, William Phillipson and George Berry, played with gritty audaciousness and never stopped—loud, cunningly complex, and dizzyingly powerful. Lead singer Bobby Nerves, donning sunglasses and a dynamic vocal range, balanced an equal force of primal fury and acidic wails. There’s no mistaking that he is the frontman through and through, authentic and charming, and he rallied the crowd into a frenzy.
Bad Nerves created an atmosphere of undiluted liberation and understood the symbiotic relationship that arises between an audience and a band, both feeding off the blood-pumping chaos and sincerity that they presented to each other. Songs like “USA” and “Electric 88” demonstrated that Bad Nerves can write more than just a few melodic lines but have something to say about the prevailing state of the world. Their subtle statements speak to the dissatisfaction of the current generation while also provoking a sense of hope. There was sweat, there was laughter, gravity-defying jumps, moshing that will cause some well-earned bruises in the morning, a few noble endeavors at crowd surfing… all compelled by the music. And the music was kinetic.
To describe Bad Nerves in one sentence, it would be this: Raw attitude with musicianship that is sharp like a jackknife and hard-hitting like a Bruce Lee kick to the chest.
Bad Nerves
Spiritual Cramp
Wax Jaw
|
|
