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Connan Mockasin’s latest LP sees New Zealand’s prince of weird delve further down the rabbit hole of his own imagination, finding himself a new alter-ego along the way. Jassbusters sees Mockasin adopt the character of Mr. Bostyn, a high school music teacher who has an obsession with his pupil Dobsyn, who he calls Josie. Based on comics and short movies that Mockasin made 20 years ago, the record accompanies a series of five short films about the relationship between the teacher and student. It’s the first of these films that opens tonight’s concert in the lofty New Auditorium of Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall.

The film sees Mockasin playing the character of Mr. Bostyn, a retired musician now working as a teacher. He’s dressed exactly as you might imagine a sleazy, washed-up 80s rocker might look – a thick blonde mop of hair, stubbly beard, chunky plastic-framed glasses and tired black leather jacket. It starts in a classroom made of cardboard, where at the end of class the other students leave and Josie, played by a man in a wig, is asked to stay behind by Mr. Bostyn and awkward small talk ensues. He invites Josie to an open-mic night after school where he performs to impress her, before embarking on some pretty disturbing flirting – drinking beer from her hairy bellybutton with a straw, for example.

One thing leads to another and they end up back at Bostyn’s apartment on the pretence that they'll watch DVDs of his past performances with his band, Jassbusters. The concept is pretty unsettling, yet the awkwardness and sheer ridiculousness of what's on the screen is undeniably hilarious and the audience are in stitches. Just as you are wondering how weird it’s going to get, the camera switches to the comically tiny TV on screen and you are transported into one of Bostyn and Jassbusters performances.

This signals the next stage of the evening, as shortly after the projector is switched off on come Mockasin and his band in full Jassbusters garb. They proceed to play pretty much the entirety of the new album, albeit not in order and minus the James Blake-featuring Momo’s. Mockasin acts exactly as his on screen character does, all stuttering sentences and creepy sexuality. The rest of the band are all in character too – seated, passive except for when providing occasional backing vocals, completely focused on creating the fictional ambience. It’s groove heavy, the perfect acoustics of this classical music hall channeling the guitar lines directly to each individual in the sold-out house. It’s a seated gig, but a determined few get up to dance.

An interval follows before the final part of tonight's musical triptych – a regular gig with Mockasin back as his usual self. The band are in new outfits, gone are the characters of the Jassbusters – for worse as it turns out. It’s a set full of self-indulgence and disrespect for the audience. The band, and Mockasin especially, spend minutes between each song chatting to each other to seemingly no productive end, or playing the occasional note making the audience think they are about to go into the next song only to be disappointed. Songs are played for a couple of minutes only to be overtaken by seemingly-endless noodling around, far more drawn out than on record.

At one point someone in the front row passes a whisky miniature to Mockasin, which leads to a painful and extended farce of it being passed around the band, each sipping it like they have never tasted alcohol before. When they do play, it’s only to the front few rows and the collection of folk that have gathered to dance in the wings, posing for photos at whim. This probably wouldn’t have detracted from the set if we were in a more intimate club venue, but the confines of the seating meant that it was only those at the front that actually got some kind of performance. It was a disappointing second half where neither style nor substance won out.