Rich Hall at Soho Theatre review: gruff exterior conceals a slick performer and a secret romantic

Rich Hall doesn’t talk much about the pandemic in Shot From the Cannons, except to growl that he was shocked to discover that unlike nurses he was not considered “essential” during Covid. After spending 75 minutes in Hall’s company I’d argue that his quibble is justified. He is definitely essential if you need of a dose of curmudgeonly humour.

The gruff American delivers a dash of misanthropy and more in his intelligent, engaging set. Anecdotes about gigs on campsites, gigs where ticketholders were packing pistols. Crowdwork where he incorporated fans’ names and professions into semi-improvised songs. And fully formed country ballads delivered in a voice so gravelly he makes Tom Waits sound like Sinatra.

Hall has been doing this for so long – he won the Edinburgh Comedy Award for Best Show in 2000, before some of Soho’s audience was born – he makes it look effortless. But there is considerable finesse here, modulating the pace, thinking on his feet. He looks good too, like a Steinbeck dustbowl character with his battered hat and similarly well-worn face.

These days he shuttles between Montana and the UK and one gets the impression he prefers it here. “I don’t trust happiness and neither do you.” Americans are just too darn positive, he suggests. They whoop when you say you’ve been married for 17 years, whereas Brits express concern. Hall has recently published a memoir, Nailing It, but this is a stand-up show rather than extended book plug.

Some of the material does feel a little timewarped. One routine references Margaret Thatcher and some vintage feelgood movies. Topical satire is largely bodyswerved apart from describing Westminster with piercing accuracy as a “conveyor belt of weirdos” out of a Tim Burton movie.

Whatever the topic he displays a deft ear for catchy lines. His songs frequently contain sublime rhymes. In one enjoyably maudlin number about a no-horse town that couldn’t get broadband he drawls: “the ground’s just too unstable for that fibreoptic cable”.

Beyond the sulky persona there is someone nostalgically romantic. He yearns for a simpler era before the advent of self-driving trucks and being asked to verify he isn’t a robot online. Afterwards I checked and was surprised to see that he is on Twitter, though not surprised to see that he hasn’t tweeted since February.

Hall has come a long way from his early days hosting donkey basketball games, which is as strange as it sounds, with players riding as they shoot at hoops. At one point during his set he modestly mused that there is a thin line between legend and afterthought. He is clearly much closer to the former than the latter.

Soho Theatre, to Saturday; sohotheatre.com