Struck a Nerve: A Rad Metal Band Born Out of Frustration With Music Industry Bullshit

“It started as a bit of a bit of a laugh, and then as the recording process went on, it became evident that it was actually pretty good, and we were having so much fun with it.”

Let’s cut to the chase, because that’s the modus operandi behind U.K. thrash wizards Struck a Nerve. Listenable Records announced in mid-September that the label had signed the band, featuring Shrapnel lead guitarist Nathan Sadd, two members who had parted ways with Shrapnel, and guitarist Lexell Altair Garrido to boot

A little over two months later, Struck a Nerve pumped out their self-titled debut – and they’re already starting to create the follow-up LP. If you don’t think that’s ambitious, check out what Sadd said in a press statement at the time of the band’s signing to Listenable: “Struck a Nerve are aiming to be the most aggressive and intense thrash band the UK has ever produced.”

With that in mind, buckle up for our conversation with the very intense – and equally insightful – Nathan Sadd, with whom we spoke via Zoom last month.

Hey Nathan, thanks for setting aside some time today to talk with me, especially given that your album is coming out in just one week. How are you biding your time today, good sir?

I teach piano, but one of the kids wanted to shift his lesson, so I’m shifting things around a bit. It can be a bit hectic.

How long have you been teaching piano?

A couple of years. Both my kids play. We lost our teacher, so I just stepped in. I used to play when I was a kid. We live at one of the colleges here in Oxford, so there’s loads of families around that [need] piano teachers. You can definitely find better music teachers than me – but I’m the cheapest.

You’re also quite humble. So the reason I wanted to interview you is because you guys came across my plate – radar? Whatever – two or three weeks ago. I put in a request because … you struck a nerve with me.

[Laughing.]

How many times have you been subjected to that corny line?

Honestly, that’s the first time!

No joke? Success! Man, I’m already racking up points left and right with this interview. Alright, no more funny business. Let’s get down to It: What vision or ideas did you have going into the recording and the writing of this, Struck a Nerve’s debut album? And did you end up meeting those expectations?

We started writing it out of boredom, really. Me and Chris [Williams], our drummer – and Arran [Tucker] as well, our bassist and singer – we’ve all been in, and I’m still in, a band called Shrapnel from the U.K. Shrapnel is a bit Megadeth-ey, [with] a revolving door of members. [Williams and Tucker are] now not in it anymore, whereas I [am]. But all three of us were on one of the last Shrapnel records [2020’s Palace for the Insane]. So we’ve got history together. Arran left [in 2022]; me and Chris continued on.

We were both doing this last Shrapnel record [2024’s In Gravity], and the recording of it was a really amazing experience, because we ended up getting [Amon Amarth and Enslaved collaborator] Jens Bogren to produce it, which was phenomenal. But the process of actually getting it released through the label [Candlelight] took so long. It was like two years after we finished recording until it actually came out. So we had this window of like 2022 to ’24, something like that, where we were just sitting around, waiting to do stuff, waiting to tour.

Candlelight Records is part of Spinefarm and Universal, so it’s like a small part of the label, but the whole structure of it is a pretty big label, and all the issues that come with that, like getting things done, takes ages. It’s a really nice situation now because Listenable is a much more independent record label, and we’ve got free reign to do pretty much what we want. It’s been a remarkably less stressful situation. So I was really hesitant about the idea of going for a label because of my experiences before.

Frankie from Pemicide, he’s a super-smart, worldly dude. He knows if he trusts someone, then I trust that person pretty much, because Frankie’s a good dude. Yeah, he was right.

We got frustrated [with Candlelight]. So we just started chucking each other a couple of demo ideas. [Plus] the Shrapnel stuff kind of evolved; it’s much more like a metalcore, modern metal thing now. We used to be pretty Slayer-ey thrash kind of thing. Me and Chris [swapped] demos for a bit of a laugh, because we didn’t really have anything else to do or write. But as they were getting done, it became evident that they were pretty decent. And because there was no constraint to it, there wasn’t a purpose other than just having fun together, because we’ve been writing songs together forever.

Because we were fairly free, and it was just pure fun, we were able to [do] whatever we wanted to, and that just happened to be pretty short, sharp, quick, thrash [songs]. And then Arran came back on board after we bumped into him at a Carcass show back in Norwich, had a few too many beers with him, and he joined the band the next day. It was lovely to reconnect with him.

So [while] it started moving through the initial writing [stage] for a laugh, with Arran coming back in, we [started] taking it a little bit more seriously [with] each step, because it started sounding really good. All the demos were pretty decent. Then, when we started the recording process – because we had enough songs – we talked to our mate Sam [Turbitt], who usually produces [Shrapnel], and we started making this record.

It was really weird, because it started as a bit of a laugh, and then as the recording process went on, it became evident that it was actually pretty good, and we were having so much fun with it. Initially it was just a scratch-an-itch kind of thing, and then by the time we actually finished recording the album, it was like, “This is pretty decent, we should start doing some shows.” Rather than this little side project, it became a main project for us. But yeah, we didn’t have any aims when we started. It was just due to boredom.

The more seriously we’re taking it, the more avenues have opened up to us to do more with it. We never thought we’d get picked up by a label until this summer, and then that became a possibility. So we went touring around Europe and stuff like that, and now we’ve got a European tour booked next year, so the sort of options of what we’re aiming for just keep opening up to us. It’s been a bunch of mates having a laugh, and then all these cool things keep happening.

I don’t know your spiritual beliefs, but do you feel like this was meant to be, or that it was in the stars? Or do you think it was just by luck or circumstance that it happened this way?

I think it’s a bit of luck, really. We were speaking to another singer, a guy called Tom [Collings, bassist/vocalist for] Devastator up north, and he was originally going to sing for us. And then that didn’t happen. So bumping into Arran, like an old friend again at a show, [there] was a little bit of serendipity there, because we hadn’t spoken in a year or two or something like that. So there was suddenly this opportunity to let a couple of beers flow, and say a couple of things that we’d wanted to say to each other, and apologize.

We showed him these demos, and he was loving it. But I think everything else has just been … we’ve treated this band as like, “It’s like mates first, and if it’s not fun, we’re not doing it [anymore].” And that approach, to be honest, seems to have opened up loads of possibilities for us.

We’ve definitely been lucky. Our friend Frankie from Chemicide, we were on tour with them around the U.K. earlier this year. It was Frankie who suggested we contact Listenable, for example, because they’re on the same label. And so yeah, we chucked [our demos] it to [Listenable founder] Laurent [Merle] from the label, just to see what would happen – and we got lucky.

Ever since COVID, more and more bands — especially younger ones — tell me their friendship comes first. Did you witness other bands who weren’t friends fall apart? Or was it more a matter of you having been friends before the Struck a Nerve coalesced?

I think it was a bit of both, because when Arran left our other bands, it wasn’t [under] the best [of] circumstances.He went through a bit of a mental health crisis. It was pretty scary. And that record we did with him was the most fun I’ve ever had doing a record. We recorded in this shack with a swimming pool.

Just [after] we played some really cool shows [supporting] that album, then COVID kicked in and screwed everything up. When he left, it really hit me like a hammer. And then I didn’t see him again for a few years. It really was like losing a mate for a little while. So I think when we started up again, [there] was a lot of pressure [with that album] as well. We were pushing Arran to do things with his voice that he wasn’t necessarily comfortable with.

It was fun, but when you’re doing a record on a label, and there’s this mission to grow and hit these targets and stuff … he struggled with how much we were pushing him. So when the idea of him coming back to do a new thing with us came about, it was very much deliberately like, “This needs to be a lot more lighthearted, a lot more fun. It can’t feel not oppressive that you have to do these things day-to-day.”

In general, we are all friends. So when we’re looking to book tours, we want to book them because I want to go hang out with Arran and Chris and Lex for two weeks and go see some of Europe with my mates, basically.

So it’s both. We’re friends. That comes first. And with this previous experience we’ve had of things getting quite heavy … if it’s feeling too pressurized, [we’ll] back away.

There’s obviously still issues with owning your own music and what you can do with your own music, obviously. There’s trade-offs, but it’s been a really nice experience over the last few months working with Listenable.

The irony is that when a band signs to a major label, they expect structure and, like you said, milestones, and you’re led to believe you’re in professional hands and have a proper career. You assume that a corporation has certain structures in place that keep everything on target and for either the sake of profit or just the sake of the nature of a corporation in and of itself. But then the irony is that here you are waiting two years for the friggin’ Shrapnel album to come out. Do you think it ever will?

It’s already out. It came out last year. It came out eventually, but it was interesting because it was, like you say, a really big institution, and the music scene is changing by the day and becoming much more fast-moving. You have to be adaptable and fluid, and you have to be able to release stuff quickly when you need to be able to. When something’s owned by Universal, nothing goes fast. Just waiting for advances, waiting for anything to happen.

This has been lovely because we got picked up, we handed the record over, we had the vinyl prints, we’re done. Everything was quick, and we were able to move rapidly. And you have to be like that these days. If you get a tour come up, you need to be able to drop music quickly. You can’t be waiting for this big institution to unlock the funds you need to do things.

You need to be a lot more agile. Since I started writing about music, everybody’s always asking, “Why are the major labels so far behind? And what’s cool? And what the trends are? Why are they so disconnected from what kids who go to shows want and want to hear? What’s the disparity?” It’s because of the slow-moving engine. You can’t afford to have that time pass, because things are going to change so much. Along those lines, I wanted to ask you, how do you keep up with the speed of things changing? Can you provide any concrete examples of how a band like yourselves can adapt quickly?

It’s strange, because the movement of the scene and where it is in 2025 has actually caught up to where it was 20 years ago for me. So in the U.K., we very much have hardcore thrash. It’s back in flavor. And that’s the scene that I grew up in. I grew up on Stamping Ground, Cro-Mags, Hatebreed, all of that. That was my bread and butter. Now that we’re going back to that, and I think the freedom of being able to play what we want, a lot more of those influences came in, because I was just playing whatever the hell I wanted to. And that’s actually where the scene is today.

We haven’t actually had to adapt to anything at the minute. The scene will change in the next couple of years, I’m sure, and we’ll have to find a way through that if things change or whatever. But for us, it’s brand new, because my other band, we’ve been on that record label. We’re now finished with that label. We’ve been on that label since 2012. So it’s all I’ve ever known.

In terms of adapting to the times, we’ve never been able to. It’s always been a case of just watching things change and having to sit on the sidelines, waiting for things. I could maybe answer that question better in a year’s time. It really is ironic. It feels like independent labels definitely have the ability to be, like you say, more agile. They certainly have been so far for us.

Did I read accurately that you describe it as “crossover thrash”?

Yeah, kind of crossover-y, hardcore.

Would you equate that term with metalcore or not?

Not in my mind, because metalcore to me is Trivium-y stuff. Hatebreed would be metalcore [too], right? Metalcore means something different to me. [It usually involves] melody and choruses, whereas when I think of hardcore thrash, I’m thinking Slayer with breakdowns.

That makes sense. So, given the fact that this record came together in bits and pieces in a way, how did you arrive at the body of the record? And when did it occur to you what you wanted the record to be?

When me and Chris started throwing demos at each other, we ended up with like five or six fully formed songs within literally a few months. A big chunk of the body of the record was done. I live three hours away from the other guys. They’re all in Norwich, which is in the east. I’m over here in Oxford. So a lot of it was done by me and Chris online.

He’s actually excellent at writing full drum tracks himself. He would send me a three-minute 20-hit as a full drum track. We know each other well enough now that I know what he expects and vice versa. So a big chunk of the body [of the record] was done that way. We were just trying to make some violent thrash.

That’s what was coming out. A lot of the stuff was like, you know, two and a half minutes to three and a half minutes, just fast, violent thrash. So it was obvious whenever we got vocals, in that it was going to be like Exodus-type lyrics that we wanted on this thing.

But I think when Arran joined, we were kind of talking about what could we talk about this time that was not necessarily thrash, you know, we’re talking about violent stuff. This isn’t new for thrash, but it was like for us, how are we going to do stuff differently this time? And so my PhD here, I study Russian foreign policy and I love, you know, European history and civics. Yeah, yeah.

So, you know, I study lots of Russian, Russian history stuff. And a lot of that is inevitably violence, right? Political violence and civil war stuff. And yeah, me and Arran really like talking about that stuff and how it applies to the modern world and how, you know, the stuff we’re seeing over the last 10 years, how it’s got these parallels with history.

So I think a lot of it was like thinking of stuff like that. It was thinking of, you know, whenever I’m doing my work, if I pull out an anecdote from Russian history, that’s particularly interesting. Like, hey man, check this, check this thing out that happened in this year.

He’ll go away and read about it. So yeah, a lot of the lyrics were based upon, you know, the nerdy stuff we talk about and the sort of more academic stuff that I do. And that was the difference this time around, really, like really basing it in historical political violence and how it relates to, you know, certainly some of the stuff going on in the U.S., certainly some of the stuff we’re seeing here in Europe.

Yeah, and not trying not to be preachy, especially in the UK. No one wants to be preached to like politics here. So it was really just, yeah, drawing a little bit of a line between these things that happened in the past and, you know, just nodding at, hey, there’s similar things going on today.

Yeah, that was it. So yeah, the body of writing just took place, me and Chris just banged a bunch of stuff out and then the kind of themes developed as Arran joined. Yeah, and we just sort of moved forward that way, really.

We’re starting on the second record this Christmas, actually. We’re all really eager to get into a room together this time and see where that goes, because we’ve got Lex on board now. He’s an incredible guitar player as well.

When writing songs, do you start with the drum tracks first and then build the guitar, bass, maybe more guitar, and then the vocals after?

Yes. Not all the time, but it was something me and Chris started doing a few years ago – actually, on that last Shrapnel record. He got really capable and confident with drum machines. During COVID, he taught himself basically to do that, with Pro Tools and [other programs]. It was just a different way of writing. We’ve done the whole going-into-a-room-together-and-writing-as-a-band in the past. We’ve [collaborated with] me sitting at home with my laptop, sending the guys songs before.

So we were like, “Yeah, let’s try this different way.” And it was super fruitful, because he’ll have ideas that I wouldn’t ever have thought about. It also makes me write in a particular way, because I’ve got this three-minute 20[-second] track, and that is what he wants it to be. It forces you to write differently, and it forces you to step outside your comfort zone. I recommend it to anyone, really. [It’s] a different way of trying to write a song for a change.

So we might say to Arran, like, “Hey, come up with a vocal thing for an imaginary chorus, and then we’ll try and write something around that.” And I think it just keeps things a little bit more exciting and a bit fresher than just doing the standard “guitar player writes the songs, sends it to the drummer, and the singer handles the vocals.” I think we try to do that on every record: Try and do something a little bit different, just to keep that excitement there and keep trying to push forward.

It’s like you guys are sitcom writers, and you have six minutes before a commercial, and you’ve got to pack in as many jokes as you can.

Yeah, it was super nice. We tried it a couple times on this past Schattenvald record, and it really worked. It was really nice for me, because I’ve always been the primary songwriter of Schattenvald and this. So it’s really nice just to have someone else come in with a really big idea and say, hey, you fit what you do to this big thing I’ve got. And it ends up in different song structures, in different tempos or time signatures that I wouldn’t have thought of.

I think it’s really important so you don’t forget style, I think.

Sure.

But it also speaks to you as a musician and a person who is willing to relinquish some of the control for the sake of the music and for the sake of the band.

In the music world, once somebody gets a certain level of authority or a sort of command over a group of people, it [becomes a problem].

For more on the group, go to Struck a Nerve’s Bandcamp page.

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