Nancy Reagan's Enduring Love at The Wave in Patchogue. Photo by Michelle Charles.

By Corey Maller

A tall, lanky, and – from the looks of it – easily excitable young man is ushered to the mic. Clearly caught off-guard, and perhaps a bit eccentric, he stammers on about the Beach Boys, and how since their popularity in the mid-twentieth century, there hasn’t been a band that eclipsed just what they meant to the American public.

Until now.

“Nancy Reagan’s Endearing Love,” he erroneously concludes, as out from the backstage area of The Wave in Patchogue emerge three men, hurdling towards the stage. The first of which, known only as “The J-Man,” rushes towards the bass amp, barefoot, wearing a rather tight-fitting Hawaiian shirt and matching short-shorts. The second, D. Bleek, mans the drumset only in swim trunks, doubtlessly to the delight of the largely female audience. The last character, immediately distinguished by his shorter, stockier frame, rounds out the entrance. You can formally address him as Master Craig John Heed. He, too, sports a Hawaiian shirt, as well as a t-shirt from Belize that reads (in Rastafarian colors, for good measure) “WE BE JAMMIN’.” His long, disheveled mop of hair is contained beneath a skipper’s cap, and his eyes are obscured by Mickey Mouse sunglasses, which, in sloppy pink nail polish, have the following letters inscribed, one on each of their four lenses: “N-R-E-L.”

“We’re Nancy Reagan’s Enduring Love,” he announces as he slings a guitar over his shoulder. “And we’ve come to catch the wave.”

He begins the oddly-distorted guitar intro to one of the band’s most driving songs, “This Date in History.” Their tongue-in-cheek beach attire went over well, even with the owners. There were over a dozen people in attendance, far surpassing a typical NREL crowd. The lights had dimmed, and the stage was almost set. Just one thing remained – the band’s uncanny and completely unintentional propensity for obnoxiously tripping over themselves, time and time again.

This time literally. As the intro neared its end, and the rhythm section prepared to jump in, The J-Man, perched atop his amp, lost his footing and fell, damaging the amp beyond immediate repair. The song halted, as The Wave’s sound guy (who likely could have been Ron Jeremy after a clean shave) plugged J-Man’s bass directly through the PA system to remedy the situation. From the top now. Picture the indie rock Captain and Tennille playing an off-kilter punk rock song, and you’ve got NREL playing “This Date in History” at The Wave. As the song descended into dissonance, Master C., clearly feeling it hardcore, made the snap decision to jump on top of his amp as well. Shockingly, he fell, destroying the wire from his amp to the outlet. He’d also broken a string, a precarious predicament given that his two guitars were set to two completely different tunings. D. Bleek, who had just begun to kick in with the double-bass drum, eventually took this second mishap as a cue to stop playing. Surveying the damages, Master C. announced that the show was over and everyone should go home. But once again, Ron Jeremy mk. ll saved the day, this time providing the band with a new wire for the guitar amp. The things venues will do when you pay them!

Recollecting themselves, the band, who now had to throw out their planned setlist, continued with the obvious fan favorite, the song that started it all, “We’ll Be Bigger Than The Sun.” They followed up with the nearly as catchy “Stop/Start,” which Master C. dedicated to the recently fallen (but at the time still kickin’) New York Yankees. Taking time to switch to what the band refers to as the “Cubist-caster” tuning, they went on to play the song said tuning got its nickname from, “Cubist Eyes.” Closing with perhaps their most underrated song, the cathartic “I Know I Did Everything Right,” Nancy Reagan’s Enduring Love bid farewell to their sparse crowd, and hastily began to pack up their wounded equipment while owners of the devout Christian venue scolded the band for use of foul language.

NREL. Iconoclasts or just plain brats, playing sloppily or quite literally pulling the plug on themselves (twice), even when they choreograph their outfits; the parts of their shows that’ll really leave you talking arise out of spontaneity. Whether you leave an NREL show perceiving the band as nothing more than a group of obnoxious upstarts, or come away appreciating the overlooked ingenuity of their songs, they manage to polarize an audience in a time and place where most bands can’t even manage to matter at all. To find out which side of the line you fall on, you’ll just have to come out next time and see for yourself. A dozen Nan fans can’t be wrong.

Check out Nancy Reagan's Enduring Love on Myspace.

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