Oh Connan, who knew you were so dreamy? Thy eyes are sapphires, thy teeth like ivory! Thy little pencil moustachio… okay, that thing is still a little creepy. Despite his questionable upper-lip-dusting, Connan Mockasin emerged as unexpected sex icon on Monday night. His super-chill 70s porno vibe had the ladies of The Fleece a-swooning despite themselves, even coaxing a couple of admirers into mounting the stage in a kind of saccharine rapture. The female consensus outside the gig was a definite and surprising ‘I would’.
Even more unexpected was how much I laughed. Connan is honest to god hilarious. His comic timing is impeccable and he’s incredibly self-aware. His matchy-matchy white-attired band and his ever-so-slightly inscrutable song titles make you think that Connan could be a bit aloof and up himself, but pleasingly, he is the complete opposite onstage. Charming the crowd with an ‘I love you Bristol’ in that NZ accent and a sultry suggestion to ‘please, take it off’ during ‘It’s Called Choade My Dear’, you could pretty much hear The Fleece’s panties drop.
Maybe it was his warm but weird outward appearance that made it seem okay for people to get onstage to try and get freaky with him, but this stuff is so, so uncool in my eyes. Mockasin is incredibly talented and the band’s sound was supremely on point- just because he makes some jokes and tries to interact doesn’t mean you can take advantage and fuck around with his set. He managed the unwelcome guests with total class, but it must be disconcerting to have an obviously drugged up girl in your grill when you’re trying to get through a concert only to have another rogue loon attack your drums straight after. Even more upsetting was the dribbler who was getting his kicks by harassing the lady singer as she was performing in the audience. Really bad egg, that one, and lucky not to get a smack from the far lovelier crowd who pulled him away from the delightful but understandably phased young lady.
Ignoring all that toss (as it deserves to be ignored) it was one of the most surprising gigs I’ve been to in a long time, and in all the right ways. I’ll be gabbing about this a long time after and I’m sure a cut-out of Connan will live under my pillow at least until I can get onstage with him again. I mean, what?
Sammy Jones 