In case anyone was still wondering, these two guitarists' "The Colonel & the Governor" aliases have been uncovered.

Martin Taylor is the Governor and Tommy Emmanuel, the Colonel. In that order they could equally go out as the Prince and the Showman since Emmanuel, playing up to the brash Aussie stereotype, doesn't so much tune his guitar as yell: "Brace yerself, Sheila."

While in their duo numbers, Taylor sits relaxed, picking blue note-rich jazz runs at considerable pace and with impeccable logic, Emmanuel is like a coiled spring. He can hardly wait to get to his feet and eyeball his audience.

Modern acoustic guitar technology allied, it has to be said to phenomenal facility, allows Emmanuel to effervesce. His country-inflected picking sings, pings and swings with a massive physical presence: a repertoire of hand signals – with the right hand pointing to some marvel the left hand is producing – and right and left hooks adds to the gutsy pickin', shimmering harmonics pageant as Emmanuel thunders through a Beatles medley and sings of hard physical labour.

At times it almost feels as if your ears are taking, by proxy, the punches he administers to his guitar's body, and the percussive party piece he added to Taylor's Caribbean-influenced Down At Cocomo's when the duo resumed trod a fine line between manic entertainment and a creche mutiny.

Still, as irrepressible as Emmanuel is, Taylor offers contrast and balance, paying moving tribute to his late son, Stewart, on One Day but also bringing out his partner's more genial and sensitive elements to complement duelling guitars showcases that are full of fire, fun and fingerbustin' excitement.

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