Along the way, he also sings, yells like a mock karate artist, and rummages through a whole assortment of instruments... this album does a really good job of capturing Bennink's personality and documenting his unique approach to improvisation, and it holds up surprisingly well over repeated listens.

"[1] The authors of The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings stated that the album "transcends the clichés about period charm and feels vividly alive, although one can only guess what this extraordinary man is doing some of the way.

An extremely clever drummer, he rapidly develops new ideas and then just as easily discards them for something else... listening to Nerve Beats is like taking a living, breathing voyage through sound.

The title piece moves into another realm with a primitive drum machine serving as backdrop for Bennink's free association on trombone, clarinet, whatever, before he returns to form, banging on anything he can reach.

"[5] Writer Todd S. Jenkins noted Bennink's "bizarre sense of humor," and commented: "The vocalizations he uses in ensemble settings to exhort the players on to new heights serve a more cathartic role in his solo shows, like the pressure valve on a water heater relieving a load of pent-up tensions... his deficient attention span spins him around the room.