Tall and thin, as pale as a sheet of A4, guitarist/singer/songwriter Robert Chaney is not the kind of person you imagine hailing from sunny South Florida. But Florida is a place of contradictions. It is a land of technicolour sunsets and torrential storms. Of glittering skyscrapers and sun-rotted bungalows. Of Disney World and designer drugs. And so perhaps it is really no surprise that a person like Chaney can come from a place like Florida and make music – bitter, violent ballads played on a rickety acoustic guitar – that transcends any box into which it is placed.
