Why You Should Care About Connan Mockasin

OPINION | INTERVIEW | PUORO O AOTEAROA / LOCAL MUSIC

Written by Jed Scott (he/him) | Contributing Writer

On February 25, 2011, a music video titled Forever Dolphin Love was uploaded to YouTube. The video is a surreal watch – people smothered in face paint, an uncanny dolphin/human hybrid, and a man with the most unhinged haircut walking the streets of London. It’s wacky, unsettling, and the perfect introduction to the world of Connan Mockasin. 

Connan Mockasin (real name Connan Tant Hosford) is a New Zealand musician and songwriter known for his off-kilter blend of psychedelia, R&B, and indie music. Born in Napier and raised in Te Awanga, Connan has spent the last two decades forging and refining his subdued and idiosyncratic songwriting and guitar playing. Since breaking out in 2011 with the single Forever Dolphin Love and its accompanying album, Connan has released a total of six studio albums, signed with indie label Mexican Summer, and collaborated with a diverse range of influential and boundary-pushing musicians. Introducing Connan Mockasin to someone unfamiliar with his work can be a difficult task. He's been labelled as elusive, an oddball, and even a contrarian. Whilst these descriptions of Connan are accurate, there also lies a sincerity behind all the smoke and mirrors - one that reveals itself the more you sink into his body of work. 

As a longtime fan, I’ve always felt a curious distance between myself and Connan, but that’s part of the appeal. Connan's album covers are equal parts confounding and unsettling, and his song titles are similarly unpleasant (Please Turn Me Into a Snat and It’s Choade My Dear comes to mind). He creates lyrics and visuals that inhabit his own unique and unearthly universe, and for some, it can feel too weird to see past. I’d understand someone being put off by the unsettling seductiveness of I'm the Man That Will Find You, or his nasally, high-pitched vocals on It’s Choade My Dear. Yes, Connan's a bit of a tough pill to swallow at times; he certainly doesn't appeal to everyone. However, it must be stated that a large chunk of his discography holds a lot of beauty. Take Jassbusters (2018), a concept album accompanied by a five-part video series about a music teacher who becomes infatuated with a failing student (who, he mistakenly believes, is a girl). It’s a bizarre and problematic narrative, and Jassbusters is an uncomfortable listen because of it. Yet despite that, the closing track Les Be Honest is achingly tender, full of dreamy guitar and falsetto vocals. You shouldn’t be moved by it, given the context, but it’s simply too beautiful not to be. I mention all of this to say that underneath the sleaziness and weird shit, Connan Mockasin has appeal. 

That tension between the surreal and the tender is exactly what makes Connan so compelling, and why so many influential musicians gravitate toward his work. Artists like MGMT, Devonté Hynes (Blood Orange), Radiohead, Steve Lacy, Mac DeMarco, King Krule, Beach House, Tyler, The Creator, James Blake, Justice, and many others have either worked with or been influenced by Connan's musicianship. These are artists who continue to shape the zeitgeist of popular music, and they all cite Connan Mockasin's music as an influence. His impact can be heard clearly in Mac DeMarco’s later work, especially with Here Comes the Cowboy and the bubbling up of lo-fi neo-soul in the indie scene. Here in Aotearoa, local artists such as Merk are inspired by the way Connan’s “broken away from what we can traditionally think of as ‘Kiwi music’.” Meanwhile, Connan’s tracks - particularly from Jassbusters and Caramel (2013) - have racked up tens of millions of streams on Spotify. Despite not releasing any new music in over four years, he consistently pulls in over 600,000 monthly listeners. Connan’s been working hard in the music industry for over two decades and has amassed a sizeable following in the UK and Europe. But here's the thing: Connan Mockasin is also a Kiwi. 

Whenever a New Zealand artist breaks through internationally, we tend to hold them close, proud that someone from our small corner of the world is making global waves. Think Lorde. Crowded House. BENEE. We celebrate them because they give Aotearoa a platform. But with Connan, there’s a peculiar disconnect. Despite his success and longevity, Connan’s name is rarely mentioned in conversations about New Zealand music. An article in 2014 from NZ Musician stated that Connan would play shows with a capacity of 2,000 across the UK and Europe. Then, once back in his home country, he would perform in small local bars. Gareth Shute, the article's author, chalked it up to the fact that Aotearoa’s music industry is too insular, writing: 

"Part of the disconnect is the peculiar workings of our small music industry. To achieve local airplay, it's far easier if you sound like an established band from overseas. However, if you take this redundant sound over to the UK or the US, then nobody is very interested because there are already a million similar bands."  

Here’s another example. In 2019, Connan was the special guest performing at James Blake’s gig at Shed 10. After the show - the one that had concertgoers talking over Connan’s set - James Blake went on to complain to RNZ, explaining:

“I don’t really know what people thought was happening, but I don’t think he was treated as the special guest that he was (...) It’s very often the case that at home, somebody who's truly innovative doesn’t necessarily get the respect they deserve immediately; it often comes later. It certainly felt like that at the gig.”

But surely Aotearoa’s finally caught up to Connan Mockasin in 2025, right? Well, Connan has certainly gained a more substantial Kiwi fanbase since 2019. But even now, I still can't help but feel that he's flying under the radar for many people, particularly among Gen Zers. His social media presence is practically non-existent, and it's not as if he's ever making headlines about what's going on in his personal life. He's the reclusive type, only popping out when he has art to share with the world. That mystique is part of what makes him special, but it also keeps him hidden from people who might otherwise fall in love with his music. Maybe if he hopped on a TikTok trend, I wouldn’t be writing this article about him – or perhaps the music is just too weird for a larger audience here in Aotearoa. Either way, it feels like Connan has been left out of the conversation when it comes to amazing Kiwi music.

And that’s what really gets me. Connan Mockasin is one of Aotearoa’s most unique, creative, and singular voices. I doubt he cares much about recognition - he’s always made art on his own terms - but as a fan, it’s hard not to want more people to experience what he has to offer. It pains me to think he'll fade into the background, particularly with the newer generations. If you're one of the people who’s yet to discover Connan Mockasin’s peculiar and brilliant work, now is the time. His catalogue is filled with unique songs ranging from the bizarre to the oddly seductive. He's truly one of a kind – someone that can never be replaced or replicated. I implore you to throw on Forever Dolphin Love, Caramel, or Jassbusters and see what you've been missing.