Connan Mockasin
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
[Jan. 11] Mockasin's sound is probably best described as Barry White by way of Ariel Pink, with a side helping of Ween and/or Beck at their most Prince-addled and narcotized.
Jen Carey
The cover of Connan Mockasin’s 2011 album Forever-Dolphin Love depicted him as a brightly painted papier-mâche totem — the New Zealander’s shaggy blond mop-top is, evidently, unmistakable in any medium. His recent follow-up, by contrast, presents him as a lounging loverman, all in white and gold, with a pencil-thin ’stache and a come-hither gaze. The corresponding musical shift, from folky, glam-psych meanderings to fever-dream, seductive smooth jams, is just as marked: Caramel (Mexican Summer) was recorded in a Tokyo hotel room with the express intention of embodying the sounds suggested by its title, and none of indiedom’s recent, rampant flirtations with R&B really serve as proper preparation for the album’s sultry strangeness. It’s probably best described as Barry White by way of Ariel Pink, with a side helping of Ween and/or Beck at their most Prince-addled and narcotized. And while that may sound awfully arch and off-puttingly irony-prone, Mockasin makes it surprisingly easy and enticing to succumb to his lavish alien lovescapes.
Sat., Jan. 11, 9 p.m., $10, Making Time with Making Time DJs, Voyeur, 1221 St. James St., igetrvng.com.
