Agitated Radio Pilot is the solo project of Ireland’s Deserted Village collective member David Colohan. I’m more familiar with Agitated Radio Pilot’s instrumental characterization of unease, but the first disc in this double 3” cdr set crystallizes this sound of unease into words. On it, Colohan spins wistful songs of loss lamenting the ephemeral nature of human relationships and the tragic flaws that hasten their demise. Colohan uses his role as storyteller to inhabit these characters and their lack of insight into their flaws only makes them more poignant. It’s like watching a movie where characters compound their poor interpersonal choices with further misdiagnosis of what they should have done; it’s almost too painful to watch. But it is also engaging because it works on so many levels.
In “Get Well Soon”, Colohan laments “One too many times I missed/The loneliness in your kiss” and then later admonishes his ex for not telling him to “get well soon” because “I would have tried” as if the failure of their relationship was ultimately due to her inability to prod him to action. He seems painfully ignorant of the myriad ways in which humans actually communicate. In “Hold Back the Sea” his relationship is cast as a protective wall against the onrushing waves of impending heartache. But is one’s lover ever truly a barrier to the world’s deluge? Musically, the songs are perfectly pitched chamber folk with gorgeous melancholy acoustic guitar, arching organ, clarinet (played beautifully by Sean Og, another Deserted Villager) playing off each other. Though it’s clearly Colohan’s show, almost every track features great guest appearances from Stephen O’Brien, Gavin Prior, Colin Hoye, and the aforementioned Sean Og. For all of the loner lyrical tendencies, these contributions remind us that in the real world, Colohan is far from truly isolated.
While the first disc is comprised of lovely miniatures, the second contains only two tracks. “We Can’t Last” is possibly my favorite on the whole disc. Colin Hoye’s plaintive trumpet hovers above a bed of piano and acoustic guitar minor key figures. Colohan’s deep resonant voice then paints a picture of doomed relationship that is crushed by the weight of personal history. By the time distorted drums and stuttered piano chords kicks in to an oblong groove and Hoye’s trumpet again casts its magic spell, the emotional effect is complete. The final epic track is more of the full-on instrumental droning abstraction that shifts and sways with an awkward quiet grace over its thirteen plus minutes. This kind of meditative release seems inevitable after the raw exposition of pain that preceded it. It is as if Colohan’s pain in hearing himself tell his own story becomes too much to bear and a retreat to pure emotion is the only recourse. It’s the perfect finale to another fine, if low key, release from a talented songsmith.
