The sophomore effort of this graceful Nashville combo more than delivers on the promise of their eponymous debut, with Tucker Martine’s dynamic, inventive production adding a welcome spark to principal songwriter Mack Linebaugh’s bleakly eloquent ruminations.
The core group of Linebaugh, multi-instrumentalist Richard McLaurin, bassist Brian Ray and drummer Sean Keith (the last two since departed) churns out a difficult-to-pigeonhole sound that variously recalls early R.E.M., the first couple of Jayhawks records and the desolate edge of Neil Young’s more brooding efforts with Crazy Horse. Linebaugh’s pure Southern tenor carries the mail with ominous conviction, shadowed throughout by McLaurin’s keening backups.
Heartland rocker Matthew Ryan contributes guitar and vocals and receives a co-writing credit on the deceptively high-stepping “Paperthin”, a bouncy road-to-nowhere jaunt that opens the disc. Conversely, there’s a hopeful edge to the creepiness of “Rise Above The Wreckage”, an eerie narrative embellished by subtle, junkshop percussion and Peter Rowan’s vocal and stuttering mandola. Englishman Clive Gregson, a Nashville transplant and Compass labelmate, provides atmospheric organ and synth on four cuts.
Receiver is one of those long-distance runners that seduces with repeated plays; its artful ebbs and flows draw you closer until you can almost feel Linebaugh’s breath on your face. Once you’re there, the songwriter’s aching poesy is free to sink in and do its work. Which, as it turns out, is to make you the receiver.