Once more unto the breach, dear friends, and, once again, the brave fool that is I ventured into the curiously deserted netherworld of Coatbridge in search of salvation. Or a kebab. Either would do. Anyway, finding myself without a street map, off I went to the Georgian Hotel to find out if Broken Chanter and Anton O’Donnell could put me on the right path.
Anton O’Donnell pretty much defines how singer songwriters used to be back in the day with no need of anything other than his acoustic guitar and an accent that had travelled further from his hometown than he had. He had the polish that comes with the practice that only good old fashioned touring can provide and the audience duly joined him in a bit of a singalong on the last song of his set. Of particular note was his confidence which allowed him to pull out his kazoo in front of everybody and play with it. That’s not something you see much of these days. Not even in Coatbridge.
You can spot a serious musician by the amount of guitar tuning that happens on stage. Broken Chanter – aka David MacGregor – did a lot of guitar tuning yet he proved be a most affable entertainer with his between songs banter recounting anecdotes from his recent tour. He had no shortage of quality material from his new album and, with able assistance from Charlotte Printer on bass, he thus managed to populate an, extended into two parts, set of songs filled with his trademark sharp edges and acute angles. If you had forgotten why you might, of an evening, partake of live music then Broken Chanter provided a more than adequate reminder of just why music is good for your soul. Admittedly he didn’t have a kazoo but his next EP is apparently a newspaper so he scored bonus points for that.
Outside, the streets are practically deserted. I can only assume that the population of Coatbridge had been either returned to prison or kidnapped en masse by aliens. There wasn’t even a queue in the kebab shop.