Perth multi-instrumentalist John William Tanner's suntanned soft rock miniatures as Eleventeen Eston exude a mood of sleek shades and faded footage: the bleached beauty of cerulean coves at golden hour, windsurfers gliding like skybirds on the horizon. It's the sound of smooth jazz at a seafood sky-lounge, sunset glittering on waves while a new wave instructional hang gliding video plays above the bar. Leisure and pleasure, loose and lost, grainy coastal cruises traced in piano, guitar, cocaine bass, and keys, laced with licks and hooks. A revisitation of futures past, enshrined on shredded tape for dusty dashboards.
Despite the haze of airbrushed fantasy Tanner cites a muse truer and more beatific than breezy vacation rock: “The optimism and sincerity that exists (or did exist) in popular music, beyond any notion of nostalgia.” At this, Delta Horizon delivers, in ways warped, wondrous, unknown, and unforgettable.