Connan Mockasin @ Bush Hall, London

It’s a wonder Connan Mockasin manages to attract the sort of crowd he does given his music and offbeat personal expression. Affixed to the wall behind him is his blonde mop-haired effigy that graces the cover of his debut album Forever Dolphin Love, while his four-strong backing band are in their typically eccentric, but never contrived, attire of 60s psychedelics.

Mockasin is convivial but serious, quirky without being lame and evidently unperturbed by festive volume levels off-stage as he says, “this is the quietest London audience I’ve ever had”. That announcement is promptly followed up by more hooting and hollering that one is certain consists largely of Australians and New Zealanders come to support one of their own.

Although it’s a bit of a bummer that some of the pop-psychedelia of Mockasin’s obstinately singular musical vision is drowned out by soused conversation, it’s heartening to see that his compositional meanderings, often pushing against the bounds of reason, are met with such whole-hearted acceptance.

Opening the night with a deferred percussive build-up – the first of many to reject the expectation of immediacy in this global climate of musical frivolity – Mockasin and the band stretch their frequent musical digressions across free jazz ambience and dub-style breakdowns.

There’s a woozy lyricism to Mockasin’s elastic vocals, effortlessly springing up to his idiosyncratic near-falsetto and dropping down to a rumbling baritone, mirrored by his capricious guitar noodling.
The undulating melancholy of Mockasin’s offbeat recordings, like ‘Forever Dolphin Love’ or ‘It’s Choade My Dear’, give way to a joyful ethereality, engendered by the genuine camaraderie expressed between band members.

The drummer dubbed ‘Dave Grohl’ competes amicably with another on bongos and maracas, while Mockasin bends into his band mates, exchanging a benevolent grin.

Having graciously followed up a well-deserved encore with two more protracted musical journeys, Mockasin’s effigy now dangles from its rope, having dropped – resembling a very public act of suicide – as its live doppelganger quips, “is that a good or a bad sign?” It’s a good one, certainly.